The Angel's Song
by TerRaine and Sloth
Summary: Welcome to Christmas...please keep your hands, feet, tails, wings and various appendages inside the car at all times. And PLEASE don't feed the angels.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome again to the Legendsverse.

Please allow your tired mind to immerse,

As you gather 'round my girls and boys

To read yet 'nother tale of Titans' Christmas joy.

The days have grown chilled

And their senses become thrilled

For Autumn has taken flight.

And so encroaches that happy Yuletide night.

And as the year winds down we find,

Aft' months of careful watch and mind,

Our heroes hearts and spirits lift

All in wait of the twenty-fourth and fifth.

So pull up a chair b'fore the fire

Enjoy a time free from rage, hate, and ire.

Warm on this Christmas night you sit,

And…

"Y'CAN GET THE HELL OUT OF MY KITCHEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT!"

…you know what? Just…never mind.

"Ryce cool it!" Cyborg tried to yell above her near-screeching voice. It did not seem to matter to the enraged blond however as she picked up a metal ladle and pelted it at the fleeing form of one, Tara "Terra" Markov as she ran from the kitchen in tears. Sophie for her part had just taken to keeping her mouth sealed tightly shut behind them both, nearly hiding behind the one counter. Cyborg gave a groaning sigh as the force of that launch left the ladle bent beyond recognition, making a note to himself to look into that before the end of tonight.

"Why is she yelling now?" Savior sighed from the door way as he walked in, seemingly none-too-surprised and more exasperated than anything else by her rage.

"Why is my girlfriend crying, is the better question," the green shifter known as 'Beast Boy' chimed in soon after, hovering in the doorway Tara had fled through just long enough to glare at his younger maid friend. Ryce met the stare with equal intensity, staring him down for a short moment before he was gone once more, no doubt chasing after the upset Titan, teammate and lover.

Ryce's face reddened further in anger before she shouted after him, "She's cryin' because she's a stupid fu-"

In a moment her mouth was sealed in a large enwrapping of gauzy shimmer strands, ending her sentence in a far more G-rated string of muffled insults.

"No cursing at Christmas," he sighed before releasing her and allowing her to turn her annoyance on him, sparing Tara.

"Pickle you kumquat," she snapped, her face falling into confused expression the second it left her mouth, "…that s'not what I wanted to say…what the French Toast? ARGH! That s'not wha' I wanted t'say either!"

Noel looked mildly satisfied by what would usually be a most alarming loss of mental control and free will by his younger friend. For now, he did not cast so much of a shred of concern or worry for it. In fact, he even smiled a bit in relief.

"The Woman in Black is a fan of edible fruit arrangements…and easily bribed," he informed the unhappy-looking teenager.

"Son of a biscuit-eating bulldog!"

"She is not however very original," he added a bit flatly before brushing past Ryce to turn off the flaring hot stove, "And you are out of the kitchen for the rest of the Holiday."

Mouth agape, seemingly at the sheer audacity of this banishment, she shook her head, "M'the fiddlin' MAID and CHEF!"

"Not during the Holiday you're not. Frankly Ryce, everyone here has heard you scream at and abuse BOTH Sophie and Terra for two days straight over the Christmas menus," he informed her, squaring his body to her as she stormed up before him.

Eyes glittering angrily behind her glasses, she stared up, "S'not MY fault they are a bunch of tribble-nibblers who don't LISTEN."

"If you want to storm about the kitchen like a mini-Eva Braun and freak out like this then you are leaving the cooking up to Tara and Sophie…there is no room for discussion," he snapped leaning forward slightly in a subconsciously intimidating manner.

Or at least it might have been if he was arguing with just about anyone else right now. Ryce, however, just stood up on her toes to get right back in his face, "S'my lintin' kitchen, Noel!"

"Too. Bad."

A new voice broke through the tense, soon to become explosive environment, catching the tiny blonde's attention, "There is also in issue of what you did to Aqualad yesterday."

* * *

The day prior…

A decidedly feminine shriek ripped through the Tower, muffling out the quiet sound of a chopping knife thudding dully into a wooden block.

"CYNTHIA!"

The sound of Aqualad's body thudding to the ground in a distraught heap did not travel quite as far. Nor did Ryce's dry sarcasm in the face of his hysterics.

"For cryin' out loud s'tuna Zen…don't be such a wuss."

* * *

Tim Drake glared mask-less from the other side of the room, his words seeming to deflate the half-angel a bit. The fire draining out of her glare she rolled her eyes dramatically. However, Noel did note that she was removing her apron and oven mitts, finally though she tried to downplay the act.

"I don't see what the big deal is…Algae-Boy isn't even comin' over for Christmas Eve. The Feast of the Seven Fishes is a fun tradition," she grumbled as she tossed the cooking garments into a tangled heap on the counter.

"The big deal is you KNEW he was coming over yesterday…did you have to practice in front of him?" Cyborg asked crossing his arms to look down at her sternly.

The look seemed to mollify her indignant anger, as she migrated away from yelling. She tried to look up at the larger Titan with sad – slightly wounded even – eyes over her treatment. Instead of anger, her voice came out in a much more quiet – if not slightly petulant – whine, "How was I supposed to know he'd piddle himself over me choppin' the head off a tuna? And besides that, m'not goin' to humor his retardedness."

"The same way you know everything else about us?" Robin reminded as he walked past her.

The stare granted to Tim was a bit blank before she moved on to shaking her head, "Okay…to be honest, Tim, I watched YOU guys…I couldn't have given less of a Sharona 'bout the misfit-infused B-Squad."

"…you need stop being rude to them, Ryce. They are Titans too," Sophie said quietly from her hiding space behind the counter as if waiting for the smaller girl to explode all over again. The mortician went so far as to flinch when Ryce turned towards her. It was unnecessary given the small smirk growing on the girl's face.

"M'only rude to 'Low-tide Lad' and 'Generic Brand Robin'…anyway there s'a reason they didn't get their own cartoon," the British-accented teenager pointed out as a large chunk of plaster seemed to fall from nowhere onto Noel's head. He grumbled something about it being 'far too early to start this' as he brushed the powdery white fragments from his hair and jacket.

Robin glanced back at her from the other side of the room with a frown, "Nevertheless…after the Atlantean nearly dropped in a dead faint, was there a need to continue gutting and de-scaling the fish that Zen was apparently on a first name basis with?"

"Mostly for shrimps and giggles ov'r him bein' a kitty-cat," her mockingly amused expression faded into something far more pained as she shut her eyes, "This is goin' to get old REALLY fast for me…how much long is this goin' to las'?."

Having finished brushing himself free of plaster, Noel made his way over to the aggrieved-looking girl and seized one shoulder gently. Using this as guide, he led her out of the kitchen to one of the living areas with a faux-smile, "If you manage to NOT make anyone else in the Tower cry? MAYBE the twenty-sixth. For now, why don't you distract yourself and do something NOT cooking-related to help?"

"You're a traffic lightin' nerf-herder sometimes, Noel…" she sighed.

With a nod, he opened his mouth to respond when an alarm began to blare throughout the Tower. He turned to look back at the kitchen from which Robin, Cyborg, and Sophie emerged after a moment, all making their way to the elevator. Tim passed the two slipping his mask over his eyes as he spoke, "We've got a situation downtown…something to do with a hazardous spill at Genesis Labs. We need to work on getting the employees out before it spreads."

Noel's frown grew deeper at this revelation as he made his way over, "Any contact with the people inside?"

"Yea…they've got a line into some of the administrative staff. Let's move," Robin said as the rest of the team quickly filtered into the lift behind. Ryce continued to follow the group looking mildly annoyed as she grabbed Robin's sleeve.

"What am I allowed to do then?" she asked him.

"Not NOW, Ryce."

A dangerously little glare narrowed her eyes out as she looked at all of them, "You have taken away my kitchen…do you really wanna see what happens when you leave me alone in this Tower with NOTHING to do?"

"…a musical number?" Robert supplied from somewhere in the back of the group.

"Leaving her here just dawned on me as a horrible idea," Noel told the shorter masked man next to him.

"Urgh, fine. You can decorate inside," Tim finally growled pushing the door close button, only for her hand to reach out and stop the closing doors.

"Decorate with what?" she asked even as a Shimmer strand snapped out to rap two of the knuckles on her hand sharply. With a squeak of mostly surprise, she pulled her hand back glaring between the closing crack in the door at the white haired meta.

"What do you think! With Christmas decorations," he said before his face disappeared behind the doors.

Now alone in the living area, the angel hybrid took the time to look around with a rather blank expression on her face. She strolled out into the center of the room to get a better look at her surroundings so as to imagine what exactly she could do with what she had been given.

"…right…Christmas…I can do that…um…okay, time for the internet."

* * *

"…I thought-"

"Shut. up."

"Listen, I just wanted to-"

"SHUT. UP."

Robert Candide leaned back against the elevator, face falling into a pout at his white haired teammate's irritable snapping. Noel for his part just seemed to stare forward, eyes fixated on the crack where the elevator doors met. No one seemed to want to speak, all sporting the same tired look and an odd foamy substance beginning to crust onto some of their clothing.

"Rob…what is one of the chief rules of superheroing?" Victor dryly asked the blond young man standing next to him in the lift several hours after they originally had left the Tower.

Robert gave a sigh and rubbed a slightly singed arm with his Gauntlet-encased hand sheepishly, "If it worked once it will not work again…and in fact may make the situation worse. Look, I said I was sorry…they just looked like mini Mortimers and I thought it was worth a shot."

His words seemed to draw Noel's attention for a moment, his head turning ever so slightly to glance at the young man. His mouth had barely cracked open before a tired sigh cut off whatever angry response had just been about to leave him. Once again the mortician behind the lot of them grabbed his attention, now.

"To be fair…Rob wasn't wrong per say. They were predominately composed of extremely heated and combusting titanium metal," she pointed out.

Gauntlet lifted up his hands to gesture gratefully to his heavyset teammate, "Exactly…they were like mini Mortimer T-800s and titanium is what you USE a sodium chloride extinguisher ON. Thank you, So-"

"Unfortunately they also were salt-thriving creatures who produced by rapid budding…hence them cooling quickly and then going from ten to eighty in a matter of seventeen seconds," Nigel cut in watching Robert deflate visibly and return to pouting against the wall, "Rather interesting group of men and women at Genesis I must say…if they did not nearly get us all killed that is. Bit of an odd lot though."

"Genius's usually are," Sophie said from beside him, pealing her masked back away from her face.

His inhuman eyes glanced down at his much shorter and festively plump lover and a smile grew across his face, "You are not."

A small blush and smile of her own grew across her face simultaneously at the compliment as she leaned her head to the side to rest against him. Contentedly his arm encircled her waist to gently hold her closer, a clawed hand resting with care against the swell of one hip.

"Seriously…no chubby chaser fluff while we're in the elevator? Thank you," Terra chimed out in a deadpan. Beside her, one of the elevator panels opened up on its own, unseen. By the time she had noticed, two or three snowballs rocketed out of the opening and smashed into her face with an icy, wet splat sound.

"ARGH!"

Sophie's smile seemed to grow just a fraction as she nuzzled against her boyfriend, "I love this time of year."

The alien doctor gave a chuckle and leaned down to nuzzle her lovingly when the elevator gave a ding and opened its doors. Instead of his planned affection, Nigel found himself nearly jumping out of his skin due in part to the cry of surprise from Robin. The other parts of said startling probably had something to do with the group of young women standing in front of the elevator in what looked like traditional Amish attire. They stared at them all in clearly unrestrained annoyance before one of them finally spoke up.

"Are you all going to get out of there so we can go to lunch or what?" she snapped.

"Ugh let's just take the stairs Julie," the girl to her right grumbled as the rest of their group nodded and filtered away.

Tim stared after them quickly, removing himself from the lift to follow and no doubt stop the seeming home intruders. He only made it a few steps before the chaos finally crashed down around him. There were people EVERYWHERE…and a racket of honks, chirps, tweets, and various other avian noises echoing through their voices. Several swans waddled before the bemused Titans. And in the middle of it all? A rather flustered looking Ryce trying to usher a goose back to its nesting box as it continuously bit her hands.

"Ryce!" Robin barked out, eyes wide and horrified behind his mask as he looked around at the all-but-destroyed living room.

"This is what happens when we leave her alone in the Tower…I keep telling you that," Noel sighed. Beside him, Garfield had taken the moment to shift into a large green swan to see if answers could be delved from the milling flock of birds. For her part, Ryce just looked utterly perplexed standing next to an unearthed sapling…dirt spread from the bag containing its root system. She looked up at the tree and then back to her friends with a unsure frown.

"…Did…did I get the wrong kind of pear tree?" she asked hesitantly as two turtle doves glided down from the mantel to nest into Noel's hair. The gathered men and women only managed to cast the heroes a weakly interested glance before descending back into their own conversations.

"Why is the fireplace boarded up…and covered in runes?" Raven asked, her face a mask of sheer annoyance seeing one of her books – from her ROOM – laying open nearby. The question managed to snap Ryce away from her fruit tree concerns. Her eyes widened in something akin to horror as the empath's hand reached out to rub the hastily scrawled rune work away from the ply wood.

"NO!" she shrieked nearly sending Raven's heart in palpitations. The scream also managed to startle the myriad of birds all strolling about their living room sending up squawks of fear and distress, especially amongst the poultry that Tim could only assume to be three French hens as they scuttled across his path. Temper flaring, he let out a shout to catch at least the human attention.

"EVERY ONE WHO IS NEITHER A TITAN NOR A BLONDE BRITISH IDIOT? **OUT**!"

Instantly, indignant protests regarding the assembled groups' pay were shouted out to the masked man. They may have even continued if the woman in the purple cloak did not let out a most dangerous growl, eyes glowing from beneath her hood. The crowd tensed for a moment and then fell silent…all seeming to find no reason that their pay could not be mailed on a later date as they made their way for the exits.

As they cleared, Tim turned back to the small girl that was their maid. She had returned to the fireplace blockage to furious re-scrawl the rune Raven had smeared and was now adding more. With a few short steps, the former Boy Wonder was by her side snatching the piece of charcoal from her fingers, "What are you doing?"

"I need to set this up before it comes! Maybe you all wanna die but I don't feel like havin' this home-intrudin,' Dutch demon show up on the twenty fifth and shove a chicken leg down my throat! M'not getting' killed by some semi-omniscient, voyeuristic demon of judgment waltzin' into the Tower!" she whimpered in what Tim could finally see was utter, abject terror.

"As opposed to some semi-omniscient, voyeuristic ANGEL of judgment just coming into the Tower," Noel grumbled and tried to extract the angering avians now pecking his scalp from his gravity defying hair.

"….what are you talking about?" Tim yelled at Ryce as a drummer walked past eating what looked like a cheese Danish he had found in the kitchen.

Ryce was not given the time to answer as the swans, apparently taking offense to the strange new green imposter, decided to swarm on Beast Boy en masse.

"ARGH! They're not a'swimmin'! I repeat they are not a'swimmin!"

* * *

"Ryce…when have you EVER seen anyone fill their home with LIVE birds during the holidays?" Tim asked the petite blond in exasperation. She looked up at him, wringing her hands nervously and then went back to staring back down at the table. Another glance to the side showed Beast Boy being healed of his many, MANY swan wounds glaring at her darkly. There was a sense of déjà-vu, recalling her first arrival as they all awaited her explanations.

"Well…I…that is I never…"

A voice chimed in, Raven not even looking up from her healing as she spoke, "A fun fact we all seem to forget due to her quick assimilation...like Kory and Nigel, Ryce was not raised by humans and had not been surrounded by their holidays and traditions…hence her literal interpretation of the song. Is this accurate, Ryce?"

A blush crept its way across her nose and she gave a slight nod.

"Wait," Cyborg cut in looking down at her, "You've NEVER celebrated Christmas?"

Ryce looked up at him before dropping her eyes and fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat, "Well…daddy never wanted to give the wrong impression on religious days of celebration…sooooooo we never honored any of them."

Tim sighed, pulling out a chair so as to be able to be on eye-level with their younger friend, "Okay…Ryce, you need to come and ASK us when things like this come up, okay? Don't look things up on the internet because usually it is just going to end badly."

Ryce seemed ready to nod when Robert and Starfire made their way into the room carrying boxes of various Christmas décor. She watched curiously as Tim smiled a bit and reached into the box to remove something from it, "Ah, here we go…THIS is what we use to decorate, Ryce. See? We have orname-" he was explaining as he lifted a glass bauble with Santa Claus' visage printed across it.

Which he nearly dropped when the half-angel let out a strangled scream and bolted out of her chair, away from the table, and out of the room entirely.

They stared at the doorway in silence.

"…she's afraid of Santa…this is too pathetic to make fun of even for me," Terra said in quiet surprise as the others quickly made their way back into the living area. They made it a point to leave the boxes filled with Christmas-y paraphernalia behind. When the arrived she was cowering behind a chair looking pale and shaky.

"…You're all sick!" she whimpered, looking up at Tim, "Why would you celebrate this…this monster!"

"Ryce, this says a lot…but this is the most you have every confused me," Beast Boy pointed out as he tried to move the chair away. Instantly, she scrambled up and away glaring at the group with frightened and accusing eyes.

"I've seen the movies…heard the songs…you all celebrate a homicidal stalker who watches you as you sleep! S'twisted! You…you…"

From behind them all, Noel's voice broke through her hysterics, "Who the HELL told you to watch Santa's SLAY!"

Turning, they found the white haired meta staring at Ryce in disbelief, a DVD box clutched in one hand. It was easy to notice the way the petite blonde's eyes widened when he approached…it was even easier to notice that she tried to bolt once again at the sight of the box in his hand. Nigel put out a hand to stop her flight and force her to stay put while Noel looked on with barely restrained frustrated.

"Ryce…did you watch this movie?" he asked in, what he must have assumed was, a calming voice.

She gave a timid nod.

"Did someone tell you this was an accurate portrayal of Christmas and Santa Claus?"

Another nod.

"…Ryce is this person someone from the internet?"

She looked up at him and then bobbed her head, "…his name was KingFish1212. He said to watch this and Jack Frost so I understood Christmas. He said the only way to keep Santa at bay is to try and offer him sexual favors like in that 'Santa Baby' song and leave out as many sugary baked goods as possible…that way when he finally reaches the 'naughty' people he's too full to devour their flesh. The next day they take all the dead and 'box' em up in coffins…for Boxin' Day."

Even Noel's eyes widened at this explanation. For several moments they all just stared at the shaking girl in silence. Somewhere in the back of the group an unknown party could not prevent the snicker from popping out of their mouth. A sniffle and flaring blush of utter embarrassment from the scare girl seemed to sober even their giggling though. After a few moments, Rob finally edged out of the crowd to wrap a comforting arm around the girl and look around at the others in ill amusement, "…what kind of sick weirdo pulls stuff like this and when can we punch him?"

* * *

Four hours earlier…

In a dark room, the form sat hunched over a glowing laptop giggling like mad as his fingers clacked noisily across the keyboard. A strand of dark hair fell over into one eye only to be quickly brushed away as he read his words aloud.

"Oh oh! And then come the 'reindeer games' when Santa's 'hell-deer' are unleashed from his sleigh to trample the elderly in the streets!" he giggled manically.

Light flooded the room…which was in fact not a room but a hallway closet.

"…Zen, ¿Qué diablos estas haciendo?"

"Las bromas del 'dentro del closet' solo parecen unjustamente fácil con esto."

Aqualad blinked owlishly at the twins standing in the door way staring at him. Mas and Menos blinked back before they both finally asked, "¿Por qué tienes un atún muerto contigo?"

The door was slammed shut in their face as he cackled, "Revenge!"

* * *

"Okay, Ryce…I need to you calmly listen to everything I am going to tell you," Tim said as gently as he could. Ryce, who was all but in Robert's lap, nodded shakily as looked at the Titan leader, clinging a bit more tightly in her quieting fear. All Rob could do was try his best to comfort her and keep the blush off his face, that is until he noticed who else was about to hear the words he knew were about to come out of Robin's mouth. Clearing his throat to draw their leader's attention, he nodded over to the orange tinted alien smiling unawares behind him. Tim glanced and immediately clicked his mouth shut, wondering if there was a manner in which to do this without upsetting his significant other.

Several feet away, a small compartment in the wall opened up. Out of it ran a tiny pink and blue murloc who proceeded to let out a watery gobble and give chase after an alarmed-looking Silkie. The change that overcame Starfire was instant, her eyes glowing in furious, green rage. Heat and light began to build around her hands at the sight as she began to levitate up into the air.

"YOU again!" she yelled and flew after the amphibious creature that was currently tormenting her pet.

The Titan's just watched the doorway she left through in silence…before Terra finally looked over to Ryce, "Your OverLord is weird as all hell."

"Well it did work," Cyborg pointed out.

"I wake up with that thing sitting on my bureau watching me sleep every night."

The group turned to stare at Noel…who was looking at the open compartment in the wall with a sort of anxious and vague nausea.

"…well…alright then, Noel, we'll look into fixing that," Tim said cautiously before turning back to Ryce, "Santa Claus is not real. He is a fairy tale."

"So are angels, ghosts, fae, demons, aliens, demigods, monsters," Ryce continued to rattle off examples of supposed 'fairy tales' which countered Tim's point completely.

Sighing in frustration he lifted a hand to quiet her, "Ryce, we KNOW he is not real. And we KNOW that the movie you watched and what that sick troll on the internet told you are NOT what that fairy tale says. He is not a demon…or a cannibal…he is a fictional character who delivers presents on Christmas Eve to children who have behaved throughout the year. The naughty children are not devoured…they are given a lump of coal."

"Which he puts in a stocking sock stained red with the blood of all the other naughty children he's bludgeoned with it," she whispered as her arms tightened around Rob's neck to Starfire oxygen-depriving levels, staring back at Robin silently, with distrustful eyes. It was rather difficult to talk to her when she got like this, he had come to learn. In fact, it was almost outright impossible to get a point across given her stubbornness. Few had been able to do so with a high rate of success. Only one in particular with any consistency.

"Has anyone seen Met lately? He speaks 'Ryce' better than I do," Tim sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Not since two weeks ago with the 'Boy Band' villains," Robert said trying to shift the girl clinging to him a bit.

Seeing this going no where and going there at quite a rapid speed, Noel chimed in, "Ryce this all comes down to one essential thing. Do you trust us? Do you trust that we wouldn't just let some homicidal, sex-hungry supernatural being run around like that internet troll is telling you?"

"Aye," she said timidly without hesitation, earning a nod from the hero.

"Alright. Do you trust us that we are not lying to you about this?"

"…aye," she murmured.

"Good…then stop cutting off Gauntlet's circulation and panicking over a stupid, fictional horror movie that has NO basis on reality," Noel said sternly.

Ryce released Robert's neck – perhaps a bit unwillingly – and looked about the room at the general chaos the birds and people had left behind, "But what if we're wrong and he comes down the chimney and cuts my head off!"

"Well you'd certainly talk less," Noel observed with what could have been a glimmer of hope in his eyes…that is until he caught sight of the look Raven was giving him, "…you told me to get a sense of humor and no you complain when I make jokes…make up your mind."

Shaking his head, Nigel looked down kindly at the girl, "Even IF that were to happen, you know we'd protect you just as fiercely as anyone else in this Tower, Ryce. I understand too well your confusion…but perhaps it would be best if from now on you came to one of us when you are not sure of something?"

"…I didn't want you to think m'stupid," she said with a blush.

"Well we already know that, but that's okay we love you that way," Robert pointed out with a grin, which only grew when she gave a good-natured roll of her eyes. The calm seemed to settle back over her like a blanket…soon even the dullest flicker of it muted beneath a small smile.

"Alright then," Tim sighed and picked a feather up over the couch, "Ryce…I think you should stick to decorating the OUTSIDE of the Tower from now on okay? We'll clean up in here and get rid of these birds."

"And the cows," she nodded, "I think the milkin' maids left them in the evidence room."

Tim stared at her for a few moments before bolting out of the room and down the hall followed closely by Noel and Raven. A few moments passed in utter quiet before Nigel looked down at the tiny girl, "There are no cows I assume?"

"Nope…I just like to watch them panic…it makes me smile," she said contentedly before glancing up, "So! Outside decorations…s'lighty stuff right?"

* * *

Several feather cleaning, bird chasing, dropping scrubbing hours later, Beast Boy and Cyborg looked about their living area with a meticulous eye.

"Did we ever find the turtle doves? Or are they still in Noel's hair?" Garfield asked as he took one last glimpse under a couch to ensure that they had not left a single breed of feathered friend behind to be found later. Cyborg frowned a bit and paused in thought as he tried to remember what his teammate had done with the nesting birds that had become so enamored with his pale hair. After a few moments, he gave up and just shrugged to his shorter friend.

"Wanna assume he handled it and play video games?"

"Yuuuuup," the green shifter said, drawing the word out as he hopped over the back of the couch to set himself up for gaming. Or at least he would have readied his gaming skills if he had not found himself face-to-face with a man that was sitting on the coffee table placed in front of the couch. Garfield barely stifled the surprised scream, instead replacing it with a choked off gasp and thud as he fell back against the couch cushions. Perhaps, it was only the familiarity of the face that ensured his scream was kept under wraps.

"Lo there…Garfield, was it?" the handsome, dark haired archangel quipped pleasantly, "And you to, Mr. Stone."

Cyborg blinked for a moment, having not so much as seen a blip on his screens to signal the being's quite sudden arrival, "Azrael..."

"Indeed!" he agreed with a greeting sort of nod, looking quite at home from his seat upon their table. A hand rose up from the tabletop to remove a pocket watch from one dark green waistcoat pocket. With a swift flick, the watch had popped open and then immediately closed, allowing the Angel of Death a quick glance at the time, "Is my daughter about by any chance, boys?"

"She's um…outside with Rob…hanging Christmas lights," Beast Boy informed him a touch awkwardly as Azrael's young-old eyes darted up to Victor with a questioning little glimmer.

"Hm…really? Seems that would be more your bag," he observed with amusement.

"…there was um…an incident. Plastic reindeer cannon and Robin's room windows," Cyborg muttered with the tell-tale signs of embarrassment bleeding out over his face, "I'll go get Ryce."

He had only made it a step or two before a rather expensive-looking walking stick flicked out to block his path, a gleam of light reflecting off of its polished onyx surface. Questioningly, he looked down at the seated angel. The amused and friendly glimmer had been extinguished in the man-thing's face, replaced with a sudden seriousness that made the young man's insides seemed to drop. There was a formal soberness to him that caused a certain dread to well up in both Titans.

"No…no, I do not believe bringing the girl into this would be wise. Her first holiday and all…wouldn't want to spoil it," he said with a nod, "I believe, in fact, this should not travel beyond myself and the two of you. Far too many eyes always watching…far too many ears always listening."

It was now Garfield's turn to feel his innards harden into a heavy lead ball. He spared a quick glance – no more than the briefest flick of his eyes – up to his cybernetically-enhanced friend before looking back to their maid's father. Still that sober, stern stare that seemed to go through them out into forever. Ryce's intimidation with her father was all too understandable now.

"If you don't mind me asking…whose eyes and ears are you talking about?" the shifter asked, watching as a humorless smile flickered darkly across the creature's face.

"S'irrelevant. S'wrong question," he told the much younger man in a hushed whisper.

A confused look crossed Beast Boy's features at his cryptic manner, along with a flash-bang of annoyance. Before he could completely rein it in and say something undoubtedly stupid, Cyborg nodded and spoke in an equally quiet voice, "WHY are they listening and watching."

Again that unsmiling grin. But this time something light seemed to flicker in his yellowing blue eyes, "Ah there we go…he's getting' it.

"They are watching and they are listening because they know m'seeking out couriers. They know I cannot interfere with the goings on of this realm directly and are hoping to catch a just a tiny glimpse of what it is that m'doing and who it is that m'sending," he whispered, eyes locking with their own.

Garfield and Victor both averted their gaze. There was something to Azrael's stare that simply made them uncomfortable…as if even just looking at him suddenly seemed to hurt or offend their whole beings. It was no different then when they had met the archangel after D'xias. Even then they had found themselves incapable of really holding his eyes with their own for very long. 'Something has _touched_ him' was what Raven had said after his departure, unwilling or maybe even unable to explain what she had meant by these words.

"Sending for what?" Garfield asked.

Sheer delight seemed to break out over Azrael's face at his question, "There you go. Now even you are getting it."

Garfield could not help but bristle at the condescension and insult that sort of tone held. As if the archangel was speaking to a precocious young child performing a particularly bright trick as opposed to a veteran hero. Azrael did not give the shifter the chance to express this grievance as he stood, taking to his feet to look about the room with a quiet calm. When assured that they were in fact alone, his gaze fell back to them.

"I have a delivery being made to me. A package of utmost care and importance being given to me by the ancient Mage Po'tse Mag. However, prying eyes and ears have seen and heard of me taking delivery of something unknown to them," he chuckles blackly, "And therefore prying claws are looking to pilfer what is _mine._"

"So where do the Titans play into this?" Victor asked frowning at him heavily.

Azrael's dark eyebrows quirked up towards his hairline in question as he regarded the youth, "Titans? Oh no. The Titans do not play into anything. _You two_, however play into this greatly as it is _your_ help m'seeking. This must be kept quiet…kept silent and secret. The more people that know of this plot the more the package falls risk of being lost forever."

His eyes stared them down with somber darkness, "The package _**cannot**_ fall lost."

Cyborg gave a grave nod to the angel, "How much is at risk if it does, Azrael."

"Everything."

Garfield raised his hand, pausing the two and drawing their attention, his face mirroring the seriousness of his teammate, "Hold on a minute. Why us? Why are we so important in this? Why not Robin…or Raven? Heck, Savior probably has a battle plan drawn up for something like this."

"Actually he has five of them," Cyborg pointed out.

Azrael waved their suggestions and the budding tangent conversation off dismissively, "Robin is far too complicated and would turn this into a production. Same with Raven. Her heritage is another issue. It would draw far too much attention. Even after his failure, Trigon's children did not fall unwatched by many of those on the other side of reality. She would be a homing beacon. As for Savior? I need discretion…not glow-in-the-dark hair."

And then a rather dry look came over the archangel's visage, "Also, I just don't _like_ him."

Once more the crafty and secretive grin crawled its way across Azrael's face, "But more importantly…you two are the perfect fit for such a mission. Life scans and cloaking devices that most militant governments would quite literally kill you for, Mr. Stone," he gestured to the varying devices and tech that the Titan's form was composed of, "And near infallible stealth and espionage, Mr. Logan. Few people are going to question the green little bird in the tree above them…or the unseen cricket hoping across the blades of grass at their feet.

"In the end," his tone becoming hushed and grave once more, "this is your choice. I am a big proponent of free will, boys. If you choose to you can walk away, and this meeting never took place. If you wish to do what I ask of you, however, you must understand that what is going to occur is dangerous – life risking even. There is no backing out once you are in…too much would be lost. There is no speaking of this…it must stay secret and it must stay safe or it is lost before you even begin.

"…do you understand?" he asked of them, eyes glittering darkly as they locked into their own.

Silence enshrouded over the Titans as they stared back at the archangel of death and considered just what it was he was asking of them. It happened as if rehearsed in a perfectly choreographed flow of movement, green hand and bionic one extended to Azrael. Their expression remained steel as his hand enveloped one and then the other. The ancient being smiled and nodded, gratitude clearly glimmering in his face and those paper yellowing eyes.

"Then the deal is made."


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't you think we're over doing it just a little bit, Ryce?" Robert asked looking up at the towering building. Even from here, stories below he could see the myriad of lights and strings and fixings the young woman beside him had insisting on covering the Tower with, "We usually just do…the edges…not the entire face of it."

Ryce looked over to him, pouting at his uncertain expression as snow flakes drifted down to stick to her glasses. Reaching up to pull her hat back a bit, she allowed herself a better view of their work. It seemed as if every single inch of the Tower was covered in unpowered lights and wire. With a puff of visible breath she turned back to him, still pouting.

"But s'gonna be so pretty, Rob!"

Glancing between her and the Tower before them he began to worry his lower lip. Tim had said not to over do it. And perhaps the man from Uberton could have been mistaken, but this definitely seemed to fall under the category of over doing it. Yes, definitely in that category. Fixing his expression into something that may have been called stern, he shook his head, "No, Ryce. We can't. Tim said to just-"

Her lower lip was trembling…she was looking up at him with imploring, shining eyes that were not really on the verge of tears but…just really SAD. Standing there in the snow – which after discovering her lack of Christmas experience, he had joined several others in insisting they ensure – looking up at him with an expression that reminded him somehow of a kicked kitten.

"…that is so not fair," he groaned and averted his eyes.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeease?" she whimpered looking up at her creation and tugging on his sleeve, "S'like the cool ones on Youtube…please Robbie? Pretty please?"

"Didn't Tim and Noel say STOP looking at the internet?"

Looking back down at her pouting face, he tried to steal himself against her pouting…that she was not actually sad. This was just a way to get what she wanted. Indeed, even though they had become much closer friends over the past few months she WAS still Ryce. And this was…

…going to end with him doing exactly what she said.

With a sigh and a nod, he couldn't help but smile when a grin ripped out across her face. A squeal of joy was his only warning before the thickly coated girl threw herself forward to hug him in a manner that could best be described as 'glomping.' For a moment, he questioned how much he actually minded this sort of 'manipulation' as he shook his head at her and laughed.

When the excitement had finally waned and she managed to pry herself away, he walked over to the chords lying on a dry rock nearby. Socket and outlet ends were disconnected from one another leaving the Tower face unlit and its typical dull grey – though wire covered – hue. A glance back found Ryce positively giddy with anticipation, going so far as to even be bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. For a moment, the Titan considered being so bold as to require a kiss for his agreement…he let the thought go as quickly as it came, whether out of a lack of courage or not wishing to ruin the childlike excitement on her face, no one could ever be sure.

"Ready?" he asked coming up beside her, his inactive Gauntlet hand passing her one side of the electrical chord.

She nodded, making her hat – a size or two too large for her – dip lower on her head and the bright greenish-blue scarf to ride up on her face. All he could really see of her face now was her glasses poking out from beneath the wintry garments and the occasional hint of the wide smile beneath her scarf. The glasses tilted up in his direction and the chord was held up.

They brought both ends together as the world lit up around them.

Blinding might have been a slight exaggeration when it came to the display. However, 'slight' was the key word in that. As it stood, Robert found himself blinking for a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the brightly lit and colorful array of lights glittering before them and continuing several stories upwards. Reds and greens and whites flickered with holiday cheer, some blinking erratically, some stable, others yet fading in and out with a sluggish pace. It was eclectic and random in its design, but even this randomness seemed to form a distinct sort of pattern…paradoxical as such an idea might have been.

All in all though? His tiny companion was correct. It was quite pretty.

"…Holy hats Batman," she whispered a hand lifting to tug her scarf down, drawing Robert's attention.

"Did you actually mean to say that?" he asked in amusement.

She did not seem to have an answer for this, watching the flickering – perhaps a 'bit' over done – display with silent wonder. Slowly, the awe managed to flee from her features to be replaced with a content and serene little smile. It was a peaceful and happy expression. So it did not come to the Titan as too much of a surprise when he leaned in just slightly to dip his head and take a ris-

The chord all but exploded with a flashing crack in their hands.

"Ow! Mother-tossin' bench chewer!" Ryce yelped dropping the crackling wire into the snow. Robert echoed her assessments in, perhaps, a more PG-13 manner, causing her to instantly look up at him, "Oi! Why do you get to curse!"

Why it was he was allowed this privilege was never answered as gunfire began to rattle through the air above them. Reflexively, Robert activated the Gauntlet, which spread a shield of energy around both of them. However, they both discovered their original assumption of gunfire was false. Above them, the Tower popped and cracked with flash pops and bangs of light. Tiny explosions, like fire crackers, going off as strings of lights over powered and grew so hot that the very glass around them burst out outwards.

Blank looks came over their faces as the humming of the generator next to them rose up into a dull roar. Acting quickly, Gauntlet got between his younger friend and the over-powering machinery, sending what appeared to be a dish cover – not unlike those seen in expensive restaurants – over its entirety. Not a second to soon, as a muffled boom immediately rattled from within the bubble-like shield.

* * *

Meanwhile…

"I want a hippopotamus for Christmas…Only a hippopotamus will do…urgh stupid kid."

Noel let out an annoyed grunt, drying off from his shower, warm water dripping from his hair. God above, he was trying not to be a grouch this Christmas, but of all the songs that HAD to be stuck in his head…did it really have to be THIS one? And for this long at that? Half in jest he considered upping the intensity of his "pupil's" training as punishment for getting this stupid tune stuck in his head before she had scuttled off to places unknown.

"No crocodiles, no rhinoceroses….I only like hippopotamuses…" he hummed quietly as he wrapped the towel around his waist and wandered into his room, "And hippopotamuses like me too…"

And then the room was flooded into BRIGHT light.

Eye snapped wide in surprise, the meta reeled about on his heels, hands flying up to ready several blades composed Shimmer strands. With no threat apparent in one direction, he turned to the next. It was now that he could see that the excess of illumination was pouring into his room through his window.

"What the hell?" he whispered making his way over to see what exactly was going on.

And then all the lights in the Tower hummed and went completely dead, pitching the room and its half-naked inhabitant into black. Caught by surprise by the sudden blindness, the white haired Titan stumbled roughly into the corner of his bed, his shin cracking sharply against it corner. Pain flared up his senses as he stumbled, first from the pain and then over his towel, balance betraying him in the darkness. A hand grappled blindly for something to ground him. What it ended up finding was his computer chair, which swung around and shot forwards on its wheels incapable of supporting the tall man's weight.

Noel had just enough time to let out a cry of protest before his entire form hit the window…and then went through it.

As if by magic, the shards of glass exploded around him, nary a shard piercing his all too exposed skin. Out of sheer survival instinct, the Shimmer lashed up and out, hooking into something in his room as he plummeted downwards in gravity's embrace. Due to this, with a rough jerk he came to a stop leaving him dangling some two stories down from his window…

…his towel was about three stories down, drifting away in the chilly winter breeze.

* * *

Moments before this, a wincing Robert began to lift the shields up and away from the blown generator to take a peek at the damage. Coughs ripped out of his mouth as oily black smoke began to pour out of the ruined machine and up into the air. He did not need to be a mechanical whizz to see the generator had been rendered toast…burnt toast, even.

"Aww…our lights," Ryce said in disappointment, looking up at the now dark Tower.

Robert nodded, giving up on fanning the fumes of the burnt out machinery as he came up beside her, a charred electrical chord in his hands, "Yea…we're gonna have to take them down and put up less."

It was then the young man realized that the Tower was too dark…as in not a single light reflecting out any of the windows. About to point this out to her, he was cut short by the sound of breaking glass and a familiar yell ripping out into the night above them. Both blonds looked up in surprise to see what the commotion was as a towel fluttered gently to their feet.

Robert looked confused for a moment before looking back down at the snow, "I really REALLY didn't wanna see that much of my teammate."

"…that…is a lot of naked Noel," Ryce said conversationally…before taking her cell phone out of her pocket and snapping a picture, "Wee…blackmail."

And now it was Ryce's turn to notice something…namely how dark the city was across the bay. With a cringe, she tugged on Robert's sleeve to point it out to him only for the door to the Tower to slam open. Terra aimed a flashlight into their eyes, neither one having to see beyond the blinding glare to know how livid the third blonde was.

"What did you two morons DO!" she yelled, "The entire city is without POWER!"

Neither seemed to have an answer for that, though Ryce kept looking up towards the top of the Tower every few seconds or so. Finally she began to nudge Robert and point to the chord he had picked back up from the snow. His eyes followed her gesture to find it himself before he looked back to the petite girl, "You know, Alaryce…the mature thing to do here would be to own up to what we did and suffer the consequences of our actions."

She nodded sagely, "Indeed. That would be the mature course of action, Robert."

"Hello? Are either of you nit wits to going to answ-" she began before – out of sheer reflex – she dropped her flash light to catch the smoldering chord Gauntlet had tossed to her. A quizzical expression came over her face before she looked back up, mouth opening to inquire once more what was going on.

What she got was a mouth full of slush as Ryce's snowball pelted her perfectly in the center of her face, sending the skinny Titan flat on her backside.

"SHE DID IT!" chorused the remaining two blonds, her ears filling with the sound of their hasty retreat through the snow. With a sputter and a cough she managed to clear the melting ice from her eyes.

Only to come face-to-face with a rather irate and hastily robed Noel.

"…is it pointless to try and convince you that I had NOTHING to do with this?" Terra sighed.

A curt nod was her answer.

"…well that's just ducky."

* * *

It was not a happy Tara Markov that stormed into the kitchen after half an hour of tedious, rabid grilling by the resident white-haired Drill Sergeant. Muttering curses under her breath, she slapped on her apron with a fury previously unheard of from anyone not working on the Food Network.

Her innocence on the events had been more or less easy to prove, of course, but Noel still dearly wanted and outlet and she happened to be there. …She really shouldn't have pointed that out to him; Noel only gets angrier when people call his bull for what it is.

Sophie glanced up to the thin blond, frowning at the tense body language and overall bad-moodiness eradiating from her long-time cooking rival and decided she didn't want to know what had taken her so long to get here badly enough to ask, and instead returned to chopping her vegetables. She was just glad that the tower had a backup generator otherwise they'd be pretty screwed as far as cooking went.

Still cranky, Terra took out her own knife—and God, did it feel good in her hands right now—and made for the fridge, taking out several ingredients to get to work.

"Hey, where's the bread?" She asked, looking for her prize.

"Using it for stuffing," Sophie replied quickly, walking back and forth to the boiling water with the cutting pan, dumping its contents.

"Well, give it here, I need it too."

"Once I'm done with it," Sophie replied distractedly.

"You're not even using it!"

"I'm preparing the stuff I need to have ready _before_ I use it," Sophie said in annoyance. "Like maybe you should be?"

"Oh please, now you are a better cook than me? Tell me how to make my food?" Terra snapped. "Maybe when I _eat_ it, I'll come to you for advice."

Sophie scowled, already riled up. "Yeah, you obviously need it."

"_**What**_ did yo-"

She was cut off by the bag of bread being thrown at her. Terra scowled as she caught it, but went about to resume her work, a tense silence falling.

It was broken under five minutes later.

"I need the butter," Terra announced.

"I'm using it. In a minute."

"Can it be less? I have to add it soon or it won't be perfect," Terra grumbled.

"I'm going as fast as I _can_," Sophie sighed.

"But not fas-"

"_Look_," Sophie cut her off, working with her back to her—she knew that annoyed her the most. No one could say Sophie Mathews was a bad person. No one could say she was a saint either. "I'm making Christmas dinner for the whole _house._ You're helping, but you'll mainly be making Gar's tofu stuff. I need to use the ingredients for the larger group, and what's left you can use for Gar! That makes sense, don't you think?"

"No!" Terra snapped heatedly. "Since you eat like a truck, who knows how much you'll use? What if there's nothing left? There are no stores in this blackout! It makes _more _sense for me to finish the smaller meal quickly and then we can use what's left for the larger one without having to worry!"

"Well, I'm already using them, so we might as well do it my way, shouldn't we?"

"…Fine!"

"Fine!" Sophie snapped back, before pausing and hesitating. With a sigh, she said, "can you pass me the apples?"

"Using them," Terra replied promptly with a smirk, turning to pull the apples towards her.

"I only need a couple," Sophie tried again, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Wait a bit, I might end up needing more," Terra replied shortly.

"You're not going to use a dozen apples on _one _meal," Sophie says through clenched teeth.

"_You _might."

"Tara, give me the stupid apples, _NOW!_"

Terra turned to face the heavier female with a vindictive grin, perhaps forgetting that even without powers, she could likely… sit on her, at the very least. "Or _what?_" She sneered. "What are _you _going to do?"

Sophie narrowed her eyes.

* * *

Something brushed against her face, and her eyes snapped open.

"AaaaaaaaAAHHHHH!" Terra cried, flailing her arms helplessly. "Bats! Bats!"

But there were no bats: A lock of hair had fallen and trailed along her cheek and woken her… here. In a hallway in the tower.

Also, her butt was stuck in a wastebasket.

"What the…" Terra mumbled, looking down. A piece of paper was taped to her shirt and she ripped it off, reading.

_BIMBO FOR FREE._

She twitched. "Ooooooh… you giant, unbelievable, _BI-_"

_**HNRRRRRN!**_

"Eek!" Terra cried, falling to her side—and still stuck, a part of her mind noticed—and frantically looked around for the source of the noise.

She needn't have bothered.

"Hey Tara, look what I found while I was putting away the burnt out Christmas lights," Gauntlet declared proudly. "Our old airhorns!"

"…Convenient."

* * *

"…can I go back in the kitchen to cook now?"

"No."

"Okay…how 'bout now?"

"No…"

"Fine!"

"…"

"…well how 'bout n-"

"I am about five seconds from locking you outside in the snow again, Ryce," Tim informed the girl sitting in the center of the table without even looking up from his newspaper. He would have kept reading even if not for the hands gripping the top of it, attempting to gently pull it away from his face.

"C'mooooooon. I wanna cook!" Ryce whined unhappily.

Tim managed to tug the paper out of her grip without causing any tears before he settled back into reading, "And I want a pony…you can't always get what you want, Ryce."

Silence on the other side of his newspaper. It was a much welcomed silence considering the night prior and the quasi-war that had broken out over those lights once Noel had finally caught up with her and Gauntlet…and the subsequent hours of restoring power to the blacked out city. Needless to say, Ryce had been badgering him ever since her banishment from ALL decorating, inside the Tower or out.

And then there were his current cooks…

As if on cue, there was banging somewhere in the tower followed by some rather nasty curses from Sophie Mathews herself, quickly returned by Tara. Apparently assigning Nigel to be mediator between the two was going about as well as expected.

"My kitchen!" Ryce whimpered, like a mother despairing over her baby… though she was soon momentarily distracted. "…Wait, _she _gets to curse too? What the buddin' gel is that about? Where's the justice?"

"Take it to the people upstairs, Ryce," Robin replied in annoyance.

"But that's just IT, Tim!" Ryce continued, relentless. "Do you want those two lunatics in charge of the food? Might as well order the takeout now!"

"You're in no position to call anyone a lunatic," Robin sighed, pointedly not addressing her other concerns… which he was beginning to share.

"C'moooooooon…" She whined. "Just let me cook. I'll be good. I can't even call them rabbitty ducklings anymore! …See? Case in point."

"…No."

Silence again. Though Tim couldn't see it, he was already picturing the childish, petulant expression in her face, trying to think of a way to somehow trick him into saying yes.

"Do you really want a pony?" her voice chimed, oddly close to his left side. His eyes darted tiredly to find the girl mere inches from his face looking at him and his paper curiously, "I can get you one if y'let me back in my kitchen!"

"Personal. Space. Ryce."

The comment seemed to soar right over her had as it always did, the girl now leaning into him to tug on his arm and whine some more, "Please? Everything s'gonna taste like chalk otherwise!"

Tim grumbled in annoyance, trying to pry the girl's small fingers off of his person and move away from her. His eyes happened to catch the doorway to see Beast Boy and Cyborg sneak quickly past. Odd was perhaps the nicest description the bird-aliased man could think of for the two over the past twenty-four hours. Odd and secretive. His hyper awareness of the world around him had granted him a snippet of Tara and Kory's conversation earlier that morning, his significant other suggesting that their sneaking about having something to do with the shifters present to Terra. But Tim knew better…Garfield did not have this good a poker face when it came to such matters. Something else had to be up and he intended to ask him later.

…that is if he was able to pry the begging teenager from his arm.

"Pleeeeeeeeeease? Pretty please?" Ryce begged pulling on his sleeve and glancing longingly to her stove, "S'my first Christmas and everyone s'doing something but me."

"That would be because everything you touch is instantly destroyed in a fiery ball of chaos," Noel grumbled irritably as he entered the room, Raven at his side.

"You, be nice to me or m'emailing pictures of 'Noel Jr.' out to your stalker," she informed the passing Savior sweetly.

"In case you were unaware, Ryce," Raven supplied in a dead panned tone from beside her, "Threatening to distribute photos of my boyfriend's naked body is not keeping with the holiday spirit."

"Oh, I know I jus' don't care much," the half-angel quipped in faux good cheer before flopping into the chair beside Tim to pout.

"…how 'bout n-"

"That's it," Tim said smiling in a manner that looked more 'ready to bite' than 'happy time grinning' as he stood up from the table, "You're going out in the snow."

With a frightened squeak, Ryce was also up from her chair and across the room, "M'just BORED, Tim! I wanna be part of Christmas and no one will let me do anything!"

"We could always send her to get the 'Totemo Oroka na Omocha' if she is so bored," Raven pointed out as she filled the teapot with water. Ryce stared at her with quiet blankness for a moment, taking in what the demi-demon had just said.

"Totemo Oroka na Omocha?" she asked before Raven nodded.

"Yes…it's some popular toy this season. Would you be willing to go to the store and pick one up along with the rest of the Christmas shopping?" the purple haired Titan asked as excitement spread across her younger friend's face.

"Hai!" Ryce agreed nodding, apparently happy to be of use, before tilting her head to the side, "That's the doll thing right? Does no one notice that it translates into 'Very Stupid Toy?'"

Noel frowned stirring the tea his girlfriend had made him, "I told you to stop going on the internet, Ryce."

"I didn't!"

"Right…I'm sure you just happen to be able to translate Japanese in your head," he grumbled, casting Ryce a dark look. Her lack of listening was starting to rather wear on him…as was the insolent look she was sending in his direction. Mostly, he ignored it as he settled into a chair at the table.

"Nihongo, Doitsugo, Eigo, Futsugo, to Raten ga perapera desu," Ryce informed Noel dryly, taking satisfaction in him choking on his own tea in surprise. With a dark look, she made her way from the room in search of her coat, sure to call over her shoulder as she left, "Watashi wa baka ja nai!"

Noel stared after her looking a bit put out before Raven leaned down and asked, "Do you need me to translate for you?"

"…no…I know exactly what she said," he responded, quickly averting his eyes

A small smile fought to stay off her face as she nodded and took a seat next to him at the table, "Do you really or are you just saying that because you don't like when she makes you feel foolish?"

Noel seemed to consider her question for a moment before nodding and giving a bit of a forced look of pleasantness, "This is very good tea. I might even say excellent tea!"

"Hm…your subtlety at changing the subject is something of wonder, Collins," she said in dry amusement, shaking her head. It was only then that she noticed that Tim had fallen completely silent in the past several minutes. Looking up, the empath found him openly gaping at her.

"…You're sending her to find a toy that has been sold out and rioted over since Thanksgiving."

"Indeed."

"To the mall."

Raven nodded, "It will keep her from making anything else blow up."

Robin still stared on in dawning abject horror, "…You're sending her to find a toy that has been sold out and rioted over since Thanksgiving, to the **mall** that is filled with-"

"People dressed as Santa Claus," Noel finished, eyes widening a bit as he remember her reaction from several days ago.

"…RYCE!" Tim yelled, taking off after her.

Noel stared at Raven quietly over the rim of his tea cup, "Any reason you just sent a clueless young girl to a mall to be…well…mauled?"

"…I asked her to delete those pictures of you…she refused," Raven said lightly as she took a section of Tim's newspaper and handed the other half to her boyfriend.

"…I love you," he sighed contentedly, settling in to read his paper.

* * *

"Soooo…what do you think of this?"

"Hm…looks cool."

"…alright well how about this necklace?"

"…uh-huh…even better…she'll love it…"

Beast Boy glared at Victor in annoyance before looking to where his finger was pointing on the piece of paper he was holding up, "Well that's interesting cause I'm pointing to a plunger."

Movements pausing, the taller of the two looked up from his work to see his friend's unhappy expression. With a sigh, he placed his tools down and snatched the non-hardware store flyer from the changeling's hand so as to look down and see what it contained. It was, in fact, a pretty necklace with its stone encrusted heart pendant hanging off a delicate chain. Victor could not help but raise and eyebrow when he saw the pretty necklace also had a 'pretty' price tag.

"You sure you can afford this, man?" he asked handing the paper back to him.

"It's a sure thing. I saved up the second I saw her eyeing it in the window. I thought I wasn't gonna have enough last week but I went back and saw this," Garfield said tapping the flyer on Cyborg's work station, "Get this…if I go Christmas Eve at seven o'clock exactly, I get twenty percent off…just enough to put it back into my saving range!"

"B, we have to pick up Azrael's package that night," Victor reminded him, "When are you going to have time to do this?"

Beast Boy's response was a laid back wave as he, quite literally, began to lean back, "Don't worry about it, okay? We have the package pick up at six and Christmas Eve Dinner at seven thirty. It's PLENTY of time."

"And if it isn't?"

"Well, then I don't have a present for Tara and I'm four different colors of screwed," Garfield sigh with mocking cheer, "Can you be a little more optimistic for me, please?"

Granting his long time friend a look of sympathy, Victor nodded, "Sorry…it's just a lot of stuff to squeeze into one night. Wouldn't it habe been a better idea to get a back up gift in case?"

With a shake of his head, Garfield folded the piece of paper gently back into a small square to place safely into a back pocket, "I wouldn't have had enough money for the necklace then. When I say I have just enough…I mean I am down to the penny on this," a soft smile made it's way across his face, "I mean…I know she'd NEVER ask me to get her something like this…she might even get angry for me spending this much. But she really liked it, y'know? I wanna give her something special."

Victor nodded and gave his friend a smile as he returned to upgrading and doing maintenance one of his arm cannons. They had to be at full capacity for the day after tomorrow after all.

"You're a good man, Gar."

"Thanks, dude."

"…you are SO screwed if you mess it up though."

"…yuuuuuup."

* * *

Ryce…quickly decided that she did not enjoy Christmas shopping in the least.

Looking more akin to an overloaded pack mule than an eighteen year old, she shuffled her miserable way through the Christmas Crunch crowd. In the passing hours she had been, pushed, shoved, knocked, jostled, stepped on, leered at, yelled at, and at one point nearly pushed to tears. In retrospect, she actually did feel a little bad for the last one. All the poor man working for the Salvation Army wanted to do was help her off the ground after she had stumbled.

…the Santa suit, however, rather killed this moment of kindness for her.

Ryce sighed and tried to shift a bag or two off the niche between her waist and hip where a particularly large bag had balanced itself. She supposed she should not complain. After all, Santa suit or no Santa suit, the man beneath in the fake beard had been a – particularly attractive – Liberal Arts major over at the community college. A handsome liberal arts student who wanted nothing more than to make the scare up to her over dinner.

But still…phone numbers were hardly a fair price for all the hostile battering her tiny form was receiving on this trip. For such a supposedly 'giving' holiday that touted 'peace on Earth' and 'Good will to man,' she was finding more often than not…people in the mall were actually even more rude than usual.

With a huffing sigh, she tilted her head upward to see the glowing bright sign of the one of the last few toy stores in the center. Her glasses drooped down the bridge of her nose for a moment, unable to be pushed back up due to her overloaded state. With vain hopes, she shambled onwards into the store, knowing deep down that the answer was going to be the same as it had been the previous thirteen times she had inquired about this silly doll.

Up at the counter, a young man perhaps only a few years older than her was lounging with disinterest. His pock-marked visage, did not even lift to greet her when she finally made it over to him. Straining, she managed to shrug off her baggage and lean up against the counter.

"Pardon me," she said politely, hoping to garner his attention.

What she got was a rather noncommittal grunt.

Frowning at the rudeness, she pressed on, "I was wonderin' if you hand any of these things," and with that she pushed a flyer forward.

Annoyance clear in his face, the twenty-something year old looked away from the book he had been reading and glanced over at her paper. The second he realized what it was she was pointing at his eyes began to dramatically roll in his head. His eyes lifted to finally look her in the face, "You are joking right?"

Her face heated with embarrassment, "Well, I've been to thirteen other stinkin' stores tonight. Toy Shack sent me in this direction."

"That's because the guy at Toy Shack wanted to see if you would walk all the way to the other side of the mall," he replied about to go back to his book.

"Great…that's just lintin' GREAT," Ryce sighed ripping the paper back and shoving it hastily into one of the many other bags. So caught up in her anger and frustration, she did not quite notice the suddenly interested look in the young man's face.

"Hey, you're that maid…the chick who cleans up for the Titans. Reese, right?"

"Um," she started trying to lift a package or two into a more comfortable position, "S'Ryce actually, but aye, tha's me."

His eyes were unreadable for a moment as he stared back at her. And then a smirk began to quirk up on his – heavily chapped – lips, "…so how badly do you want this 'Totemo Oroka na Omocha' doll?"

Eyes snapped open wide behind her glasses, and she all but dropped her remaining bags to the ground again. Instantly, she was leaning back up against the counter, just the barest glimmer of hope in her face, "You have one?"

"Maaaaaybe…" he replied in a quiet sing-song before pulling the toy box baring its picture out from under his counter "As I said…how bad you want it?"

Ryce bent down without another word, riffling quickly through her purse, "How much you want extra? Name your price."

"Don't want money," he quipped, leaning forward to watch her.

But that was not exactly right. He was not so much watching her as he was just a part of her.

Ryce stood once more, cutting off his view as he leaned back into his chair and looked her up and down, "Weeeell, we don't have to play coy. You've seen the tabloids about you…I've seen the tabloids about you. Let's just say you come back here and 'spread a little Christmas cheer' and this doll is yours."

Ryce…just stared.

"…you know…'trim my tree?' 'Have a li'l piece of yule log."

More staring.

"…okay, yeah…you're not very bright. I'll give you the doll if you come back here and give me a blo-"

_**CRACK!**_

Ryce would imagine if Noel were here that he would have been oh-so-impressed with the improvement of her left hook…Victor too for that matter.

With a growl of irritation, she stormed behind the counter, not bothering to step over the prostrate clerk. If anything, she enjoyed the pained groan that resulted from her boot heels sinking into him. Rushing in annoyance, she picked up the doll box and opened the top.

Empty.

"…you're an eggnog guzzling', candy cane suckin' runt," she growled, pelting him in the back of the head with the empty box.

She made sure to aim a step for his 'holly berries' as she stormed back out.

* * *

Sometimes, Tim Drake really hated his job.

"NOBODY ASKED YOU TO BE HERE, _TUBBO_!"

"_YEAH? _THEN I GUESS I MUST HAVE _IMAGINED_ ALL THOSE PEOPLE THE LAST FEW YEARS, PRAISING _MY_ FOOD!"

Robin hesitated on the kitchen entrance, not quite ready to step in. Both women looked very cranky, very downtrodden, and covered in various stains and smells as they glared at each other stubbornly. The kitchen itself looked like a warzone, with bits and pieces not only thrown all over the counter, but curiously enough on the floor too. Scalpel, Robin noted, stood back, watching on with an air of helplessness that you wouldn't expect a war veteran to have.

Meanwhile, the eatable food was only a quarter done at best.

"HAH! MAY-_BE_. WHO KNOWS IF YOU CAN EVEN HEAR RIGHT WITH ALL THAT FAT CLOGGING YOUR EARS!"

"Um… girls…" Robin tried.

"Do I have to sit on you and feed you again?" Sophie sneered. "Maybe that'll remind you who's the better cook."

"Having the bigger rear doesn't make you better, hun," Terra replied nastily.

Scalpel just kept watching, having decided very early on that things would go a lot faster if he only got involved if things got physical. Which they had.

Twelve times.

Thirteen, as then the mashed potato slapped Terra on the face.

"Ugh…!" the blonde cried, wiping the white gunk off her eyes to glare at her attacker, her hands feeling wildly around for her own weapon.

"Alright, that's enough!" Scalpel shouted, moving in between the girls and smothering a guilty smile. "Sophie, you're better than that," he admonished, "and Tara, you…"

But whatever Scalpel would have said about Terra was lost as the girl moved around the massive alien and flung a pot filled with water at her nemesis, completely drenching her.

"Ok, _**STOP!**_" Robin yelled, stepping in finally, and getting their attention. "What is _wrong_ with both of you? You're acting like children!"

This only resulted on them shouting cries of protest and more bickering and blaming.

"Quiet!" Robin cut them off, bewildered. "Were you always like _this?_ Are you two _seriously _trying to tell me that Ryce was _keeping you in check?_"

They glared.

"…Well, pretty much," Scalpel confirmed, flinching when that attracted the females' attention. "I mean, come on, Tim. Why are you surprised? How are they acting any different than what they usually do this time of year?"

"Oh you _would _say that, taking her side!" Terra snapped.

"DON'T talk to him like that," Sophie growled, before rounding on Scalpel, "'Sides, he's not taking my side at all, _is _he?"

Scalpel cowered under her glare—though soon she turned back to Terra and the bickering began again.

Robin twitched in annoyance, having forgotten of this entirely truthful detail of a time he liked to call the Before Ryce. Now that he thought about it, this _was _exactly how they acted. He gave Scalpel a tired stare.

The Blacktranian just shrugged, "pack mentality."

"Great," Robin grumbled tiredly. "My questionably-psychotic maid whom I banned from the kitchen happens to be the Alpha female of it. Just…"

"You _sick_ little monkey!" Sophie yelled ridiculously as the girls started pulling each other's hair.

"Ugh, again…?" Robin sighed, moving in.

Just as Terra swung her pan. Sophie avoided it easily, just another day in Kitchen Wars.

Robin, however, got hit straight on the face.

It was a testament to how out of control the situation was that only Scalpel paid mind.

"Tim!" He cried, kneeling next to his leader as the girls kept screaming.

"…Dat's _**it!**_" Robin cried, jumping to his feet and holding his nose. He was ignored, and his temper flared. "…OUT!"

_That _got their attention as they turned to him uncertainly.

"…W-what?" Terra asked uncertainly.

"OUT!" Robin repeated with as much heat, his nose swollen and purpling. "OUT! YOU'RE BANNED! OUT OF DA KI'CHEN!"

"Hah!" Sophie said triumphantly.

"YOU DOO!" Robin snapped.

"Wha…?"

"Bod of you! BANNED! OUT!"

"You can't ju-!"

"Wad me!" Robin snarls, pushing both girls forcefully out the door. "Out! OUT OUT OUT _**OUT!**_"

"Tim-!"

"Who's gonna _cook?_"

"Led _me _wor'y aboud dat!"

And then he slammed the door on them.

"…This is all your fault."

Which of the girls said that? Do you really care?

* * *

It was like a dream. A beautiful dream.

Which was a reasonable assumption, Ryce felt: She slipped somewhere due to her massive cargo and hit her head, and this was all a hallucination brought by what for any other person would be the alarming prospect of her brain bleeding out. Good ol' healing factor.

After all, how else would she explain the Totemo Oroka na Omocha doll she saw before her, perfectly real and ready for pick up… directly under a ceiling light that made it shine like the star of Bethlehem.

On top of an otherwise completely bare, 16-foot tall pyramidal shelf.

…Inside a store called OMFG TOYZ!

…With a chorus of angels playing in the background.

"Will you guys cut it out already?" The pretty, brunette female clerk suddenly snapped, startling Ryce out of her musings, and the nearby choir boys into silence. "You've been singing the _same _stupid song right outside my shop for the last three hours. THREE. HOURS! Go find somewhere else to sing!"

The group of private schoolers grumbled to themselves as they slunk off to find a new place.

"…Well, that explains of the chorus," Ryce mumbled slowly.

"Yeah, I know," the clerk replied, misunderstanding her. "I wouldn't mind so much if there was some variety, y'know? I'm all for the season and everything, but I don't like things driven into my skull like that."

"…So this is real?"

"…Er…" the clerk—Julia, according to her nametag—blinked owlishly at her question. "Y-yeah… I think so?"

"This store is _really _called 'OMFG TOYZ!'?" Ryce asked, complete with air-quotes.

Julia seemed to be used to this question as dawning lit up her eyes. "Oooooh, yeah, I see what you mean," she grinned at her, being by far the most friendly worker the blond'd met the entire day. Ryce assumed she was probably high. "Yeah, see, we used to be called Oma's Toys, and it was mum and pop, but about a year ago, business was down and we were bought out by LOLcats Inc., and they changed the name to this."

Ryce thought this made perfect sense.

"Apparently they are very big on their themes," the brunette finished.

"No kidding," Ryce replied. "…Ok, before I let myself get worked up over nothing," she continued, and then pointed, "you _do _have one of those, right? I'm not seeing things? That's the Totemo Oroka na Omocha doll thing?"

"Oh yeah," Julia nodded easily, resting her face on her hand as she leaned against the counter, "that little Tomato Orca thingie has been all the rage this season. Those Japanese really know how to market things. That one's the last one in the entire store."

"Every store in this blubbly place is out of them, how did that one not get sold yet?"

Julia looked at the doll and then back at Ryce, raising an eyebrow, "It's on the top shelf," she explained simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And it kinda was, Ryce realized: Everybody hates the top shelf.

"…Ok then!" the half-angel said with renewed strength, dumping her cargo. "I'm going in. Can you look after my bags for me?"

"Sure, go right ahead," Julia waved her off, watching as Ryce dived into the absurdly-shaped plastic construct.

She didn't question where the blond girl had pulled that brown fedora from either.

* * *

"How goes the menu for Christmas, Sop—Kory?" Cyborg paused as he entered the kitchen, blinking. "Where's Soph? And Tara?"

The orange-skinned girl in question turned towards him, her arms carrying a large bowled filled of some sort of glowing, purple batter that instantly made the man extremely nervous.

"Tim banished them from the kitchen," Starfire said sadly, bating the strange substance absentmindedly. "Because they were being 'screwed up'."

"…Oh," Cyborg said, unable to take his eyes away from it. "So what are w-?"

"Do not fret, friend Victor!" Starfire assured him. "Tim has come up with a most ingenious solution to the problem!"

Cyborg would have said nothing, but she seemed to be waiting for a prompt. "…Oh yeah?" He croaked, "W-what's that?"

"He assigned _me _to prepare the feast!" Starfire announced with a giddy squeal. "Finally you will be able to partake to exotic Tamarenean cuisine again, after all these years! Oh it is a most joyous, _wondrous _occasion!" The girl sighed twirling happily in the air.

Cyborg just stared.

And stared.

"…_**TIM!**_" The token black Titan suddenly shouted, running off.

Starfire watched him go. "He must be going to congratulate him," she nodded to herself, before a fizzling hiss, like air let out of a tire, caught her attention, and she turned. "Ooooh! The parasites have finished festering on the ook'natlig'n's gums, the rot is _just_ right. My friends will be thrilled!"

* * *

Cyborg _glared._

Robin stared back impassively.

Glare.

Stare.

Glare.

Stare.

_**GLARE.**_

"…Fine…" Robin sighed, rubbing his temples. Looking as if weighted down by chains, he slunk out of the room.

"…Kor? Hun?"

* * *

"Aha!" Ryce grinned triumphantly, her hand slapping down on the box. The climb had been hard, and rather epic for some odd reason, but it had been worth it!

That is, until she realized that she hadn't closed her fingers around the box and instead sent the toy tumbling off its pedestals.

"Ack!" the girl cried, diving—perhaps stupidly—off the 16-foot tall shelf to catch the piece of plastic that's certainly worth possible major injury.

In a contrast to her usual luck, she landed hard, but relatively ok, and with the box a couple of inches from her.

Sighing, she grabbed it… just as another hand did too.

"…Of course," she sighed again, not at all surprised, and looked up.

She did a double-take.

Before her stood the most archetypical example of a snooty rich man: Portly, and with a thin salt-and-pepper goatee and black, sleeked back hair over his aged, aristocratic features. He wore a prim, uncomfortable looking dark green suit that followed the oldies theme of his entire attire; complete with white gloves, handkerchief, a bowl-hat, a pocketwatch, a pimpin' cane and an honest-to-God monocle.

Also, a butler. Because that was the only word needed to describe the man standing, very straightly, next to him. He was his butler.

The snooty rich man had yet to even look at Ryce, eyes only for the toy. "This is exactly what dear Gabrielle wanted!" he said triumphantly, picking up the box.

…And Ryce along with it, who refused to let go of it. "Yes, and that's all well and good," the girl grumbled testily, as if she had just taken a twelve-foot-plus fall or something equally silly, "but I found it first and climbed the irrational shelf—with a _fedora!_" she waved the hat for emphasis, "to get to it, so if you think I'm letting go of it _now_, you got another thing coming, so if you don't mind letting go, I'll be on my way."

The man blinked, staring at her for several seconds. "…Jervis?" He finally asked, turning to his butler.

"Yes, Master Bridgeton?" Jervis the butler replied.

"Who is this… person?"

Ryce already didn't like him. …Cause he had taken her toy. She was used to this treatment.

"I believe it's a teenager, sire, ragged down from heavy Christmas shopping," Jervis explained smoothly, "likely a teenage mother, trying to get her newborn a gift after her deadbeat horndog of a father left them."

"I see…" Bridgeton frowned, though he didn't. "Well, young lady, this is for my daughter. So… Move along now," he shooed her away.

Ryce's temper flared as she bit the inside of her cheek. "Well, my _friend_," she put special emphasis on the word, "wants it took, so let go!" She tugged at the box, forcing the man to let go, and then walked away.

"H-hey…!" Bridgeton cried, walking after her: This simply wasn't how negotiations went with him.

"_Look,_ Briggie," Ryce growled, standing before Julia and ringing the toy in. "You're obviously a millionair-"

"Billionaire," Bridgeton corrected immediately, annoyed at her slight.

"What**ev**er!" Ryce snapped. "The point is, money, you have it. You lost the toy, just throw some money around at people and they'll bring you the honkin' toy!"

"That'll be $35.50," Julia says cheerfully, used to such words during the season.

"I'll pay for it, Miss," Bridgeton said, moving over.

"No, you WON'T," Ryce growls, swiping her card.

"You said to throw money at people."

"NOT. ME."

"I'm throwing it at her," Bridgeton points out, nodding at Julia.

"_GET AWAY FROM ME_."

"Ok, young lady, I humored you enough, now give me the toy, I don't think you understand just who it is you're talking to, but I have some _very powerful _friends that would love to make your life unpleasant! Now give me the to-"

_**CRACK!**_

"…SHIRT!" Ryce yelped, shaking her hand painfully. "I need to start using the other hand to punch," she whined, blowing on her bloody fist, and giving Jarvis the butler a look. "…What," she growled.

"Oh, no problem, ma'am," Jarvis said quickly, before smiling at Ryce, "You are simply my hero."

Ryce blinked, vaguely flustered, "…oh. T-thanks. I guess."

"Have a nice day," Julia grins, holding up a plastic bag. "Here are your others things," she added, nodding towards the pile of gifts.

"…Does anything phase you?" Ryce had to ask, now picking everything up with practiced strain.

"Well, the mall getting flooded and then being taken hostage by a pair of crazy brothers certainly did," Julia nodded seriously.

"…Right. Well, see ya both. Mind his eye," She added nodding to the downed Bridgeton. Pausing for a second, she reached down and took his monocle. "I'm keeping this," she informed Jarvis. "It's cool."

"As you will, ma'am," Jarvis nodded.

"I should probably tell you we closed seven seconds ago," Julia piped in, looking towards the entrance… as the metal frame slowly slithered down along it.

"Perfect," Ryce grumbled, shifting into a run towards the steadily shrinking light.

"…I was just going to have her go out the back door," Julia muttered as Ryce—and her gifts—slid just barely under the door.

Except for her fedora, which fell off.

Cursing, Ryce reached in and pulled it out in the nick of time.

"Cool!" She cheered. "…I don't know why I did that! …In fact, I question the point of this entire thing."

A murloc angrily ran by and garble-gobbled at the girl, for questioning the will of John.

"…K."

* * *

"…So, with Tara, Sophie, Kory _and _Ryce banned from the kitchen," Robin was saying, trying not to cringe at the way his teammate's eyebrow quirked up at the fact that all the names in that list had been female, "it falls to me to find someone else to cook the feast for us. And I was wondering if it was _possible_ for you to maybe, just, go into the kitchen an-"

Raven slammed the door on his face.

"…Ok," Robin sighed. "You're busy. I understand."

* * *

"I just need a little help!"

"I'm sorry, Tim," Cyborg shook his head; "BB and I have to prepare for this… thing."

"…Thing."

"…I will say nothing."

"Vic-"

"Tim, I know all your secrets. …ALL. Your secrets."

"…You're excused."

* * *

"Nigel, I'm _sure_ we can do this! Together!" Robin encouraged, putting on his apron.

"I believe in us, Tim!" Scalpel nodded.

"Alright, go team!"

"Yeah! I'll start pickling the bird and preparing the bloodhorn sauce! Where's your debonizer?"

"…This isn't going to work."

* * *

"Hi, Honest Tom's catering service?" Robin grumbled irritably, reading off the Yellow Pages. "Yeah, this is Robin, of the Teen Titans… yes, really, look, I don't want to have to prove it again, so can we skip that particular song-and-dance and get to business… …well, yeah, I'm sorry you weren't my first choice, but the name's sorta… …ok, I know. No, I don't… …no, thank you. Can I just—look, I'll speak to your boss about the name later if you will just tell me how much for a Christmas dinner! …Oh. Booked till mid-January, huh? Wow. …Yeah, I understand, thank you. Merry Christmas. …Oh. Sorry. Happy Hanukah. …What? No, I'm not Jewish! Why would you—I am _not _defensive, there's nothing wrong with being Jewish! No, I—wait—ok, y'know what? Goodbye!"

Robin hung up, groaning and lying flat on his chair. "…Maybe Chinese?"

* * *

"Ok, Noel!" Robin said, once again donning apron and cursing every food service in Jump City to the very depths of some very bad place. "Clock's ticking down, what do you say we combine our talents and make this the _best _Christmas dinner we've eve—_GOD_ no, _**NO!**__ What am I __**thinking?**_" The masked man trailed off, throwing his apron off and taking a moment to consider his recent, most insane brush with death to date. "…I wish I had a drinking problem."

"I was wondering if you'd actually go through with this," Noel muttered, putting his own apron away with a frown: He wasn't _that _bad.

* * *

"Stupid son of a sandwich."

Ryce sat on the inactive fountain edge outside the mall pharmacy, wrapping her bruised knuckles in a bandage. In her tired anger she could not even muster the inclination to berate herself over using not using her left hand. Then again, she supposed that none of it really mattered. A small excited smile began to struggle its valiant way across her face as her eyes turned to the plastic bag sitting by her feet with the words, "OMFG TOYZ!" emblazoned across it. She could see the Totemo Oroka na Omocha doll's packaging through its semi translucency.

She had finally completed her first Christmas task…and nothing had blown up…

A warm, light-headed and oddly giddy feeling began to spread through her. She was finally starting to get the – much less bloody and disturbing – movies and songs that Starfire had coaxed her into watching with her the other night. Excitement over this holiday began to bubble through her, anxious to be shared with someone in particular. She had never been one to be so drawn into silly fictional nonsense, but she was suddenly so sure that these fluffy classics were right. Things worked out… 'God Bless us Everyone' was not pandering nonsense and 'I'll be Home for Christmas,' was not an attempt, but a promise

Before Ryce was even aware of what she was doing, she had scooped up her packages and made her way over to a wintery display several yards away. Without ceremony, she all but dumped her packages onto the ground outside the white fencing and hopped over it. The line of men and women with their small children stretching back gave various cries of protest at her 'line cutting' but she just could not find it in her to care.

Unlike the poorly disguised and young man from the Salvation Army, this gentleman was much older and came equipped with his own snowy beard. A curious smile lit up his face as he tilted his head to the side to watch this older teenager walk up to him. With a manic laugh she threw her arms around the jolly costumed 'Santa.'

"Happy Christmas Santa! S'probably silly…considering I know this isn't actually 'real' and m'bout three times older than everyone in that line…but mind if I ask for something?" she quipped, sure to drop her voice below a certain volume, mindful of the small children standing behind her.

"You're never too old to ask ol' St. Nick for something," he nodded with an understanding smile, eyes twinkling.

Ryce nodded and quickly whispered something into his ear before releasing him from her embrace, "So…what do ya think?"

The Santa seemed to consider her request for a moment, before his smile softened. Nodding his head he looked up at her, "Hm…I hear that one a lot, my dear. I can't make any promises…but I can certainly try."

Ryce nodded, "S'all I ask. Thanks, Santa. Happy Christmas."

With that, she turned back the way she came and hopped back over the fence. The parents were still looking at her oddly, not that she could really blame them. A laugh bubbled up and out of her as she picked up her packages and bags and loaded herself up once more. She had made it several steps along the long line of parents and children when Santa waved her goodbye.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Ryce."

Her steps paused…and her head turned to look back. Had he just called her…

The only warning she got was the surprised and protesting complaint of the young father next to her. It did not even give her enough time to turn back to see the man pushing roughly through the line next to her. All she knew is that one minute she was standing next to the line, looking back at the Mall Santa, and the next she was sprawled out on the ground. A sharp pain rang up through her tailbone from where she had fallen.

_CRUNCH._

Above the shouts of protest…above even the harassed sounding yells of the man on the cell phone that had just barreled her over. She heard that single quiet crunch. Struggling, under the weight of her various bags, she finally made it up off of her back to her elbows to look and see what had happened.

"Stupid brainless KID," the middle-aged man on the cell phone yelled at her, "Watch where you're going!"

Ryce knew she should have been more aware of the fact that her gifts and various purchases were strewn all about from the impact. She knew she should have been more aware of the various curses and insults that man – who had knocked HER over – was shouting at her. More importantly than either, she knew she should be more aware of the dull aching her fall had resulted in. But there was only ONE thing she could even see…the sounds of the world dulling out around her.

The man's foot was crushed down over the "OMFG TOYZ!" bag…and tiny doll arm toppled carelessly from the destroyed box.

"Hello! Are you hearing me! Jesus CHRIST, what are you? One of those retards kids from the retard school?" he screamed, "Look what you did! You spilled coffee on my favorite shirt!"

Ryce's eye began to twitch…and her lips…actually her entire face…

She looked up at the man…

* * *

At the Tower Kitchen table, the Titans gathered about to help themselves to a warm bowl of soup and grilled cheese, the television murmuring quietly in the background. No better meal on a blustery winter night, after all. The cozy toasty kitchen seemed like a haven when compared to the snow drifting wind gusting past the window above the sink.

Tim sighed contently, enjoying these little moments where he could forget about stupid turkeys and the stupid people that needed to cook them. He picked up the remote to snap the television off, "Anyone mind if we have some peace and quiet?"

The shrugs and indifferent shakes of their heads signaled to the Titan leader that no, in fact, no one would mind. He had gone so far as to lift his arm and point the remote control at the screen when the news caster on screen shifted into a pretty young woman standing outside of the recently refurbished Jump City Mall.

"Tonight, a scene of chaos as the Holiday stress proved too much for one young shopper."

And Tim felt his stomach drop, "Please don't be her."

"Witnesses have stated that the young woman was seen walking with her purchases when a man, indentified as Steven Novak, collided into her, knocking the woman to the ground and both scattering and even stepping on some of her articles.

"One purchase in particular being this," the reporter held up a Totemo Oroka na Omocha package, "This season's 'it' gift, the Totemo Oroka na Omocha doll, no doubt the LAST to be found within the state, which was shattered under Mr. Novak's trampling. When Mr. Novak paused to berate this shopper, the young woman allegedly snapped and transformed into a winged creature. In this fashion, she proceeded to begin beating the man senseless, even going so far as to threaten to sodomize him with an oversized decorative candy cane torn from the 'Meeting with Santa' display."

"... … … …" they all stared at the screen.

"…it could still be another girl that can transform into a winged monstrosity," Garfield tried to sound hopeful.

"And three, two," Rob chuckled, "one."

And then the phone began to ring.

Each Titan seemed to move in a flash of speed, all raising their hands up towards the ceiling with a cry of "Not it!"

All except Noel.

"…really? What are we? Five?" he asked dryly.

"We may be five, but you're still the one picking her up," Terra countered, returning to her soup.

"Tim?" Noel asked.

Robin shrugged, "the rule of It is all powerful."

Noel sighed.

"I can do it," Rob spoke up, dragging everyone's attention. He shrugged. "I don't mind, I just wanted to mess with Noel."

The man in question glowered at him, and opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut-off.

"No, you can't," Robin sighed.

"Huh?" was the simultaneous reply.

"Look, Rob, you're the only one left. You're helping me cook," Robin sighs.

"I note that your interest in cooking coincides with Kory banishing you to the couch," Rob points out. "Connection?"

"The connection is that _you're helping me cook now move it_," Robin growled testily, dragging the dim blond away grumpily.

"Oh _snap_, major burn!" Rob cried as he vanished out of sight—and smacked. "Ow!"

Noel sighed, realizing he might as well go pick up the Tower's female resident idiot.

* * *

And so about twenty minutes later, Noel found himself pushing open the door to the Jump City Police Department, roughly. Recognition showed in the officers' eyes as he walked through, all observing his expression and careful to keep their greetings to themselves. Blue eyes scanned the faces, before finally finding the one he wanted. The one belonging to the voice on the other end of the phonecall from before.

"Savior," Captain David Stathis greeted with a nod as he made his way towards the meta and away from his desk.

"Where is she?" Noel grumbled.

The tone in the Titan's voice was clear, dark, and full of dark promises for the 'she' he was seeking. Stathis wasted little time, waving the darkly garbed hero over and leading him towards their holding cells several rooms away.

"Try to be fair, son. She's…kinda shaken."

"She's going to be more…because I'm going to 'shake' her until all the stupid falls out," Noel growled, his eyes catching sight of the room he knew the cells to be housed in, "What are the charges?"

"Disorderly conduct."

Noel stopped and stared at the officer, "That's a misdemeanor..."

"Indeed it is," the captain nodded.

"That will probably be thrown out of court."

"The charge often does not stick," Stathis agreed,

"…she beat a man and threatened to rape him with a Christmas decoration."

A shrug was his answer, "Allegedly. Mr. Novak seems to feel he was at fault…doesn't want to press charges."

"And you don't that as see an issue?" Noel asked, before finally noticing something 'off' about the Captain's attire. A suit jacket, tie, dress pants. The meta-human raised an eyebrow at the officer, "You left a Christmas party and came down here to smooth things over for her, didn't you."

"Novak decided against charges before they even got him in the squad car. I'm just keeping things calm and quiet," David nodded, walking towards the cell room door where he paused for a moment to look over to Savior, "But off the record? It didn't sit right with me that the reason my Becky – and God knows how many other little girls – gets to see Christmas was going to be in trouble for giving some thug a taste of his own medicine."

"That's a good way to get yourself in trouble, Captain Stathis."

He smiled wanly at the younger man, "Tell you what, kid. Come back in a few years when you and that pretty girl with the purple hair have one of your own…then, you can tell me that you wouldn't do the same for someone that did what that girl did."

Without waiting for an answer, Captain Stathis pushed the door open and strolled into the bar filled room. Several of the cells were already house what appeared to mostly be a few men and women who over indulged in the holiday 'spirits.' Novak, however, stood out amongst them greatly with his torn clothing, bloody cotton stuffed nose, and in general beat to all hell appearance. Noel could see he was apparently crying as Stathis gave him a winning smile.

"How's your face feeling, Novak? You're not crying over a little girl beating you up are you?"

"No dir," he sniffled.

All David could do was allow his smile to soften as he moved to the cell over, "You okay in there, kiddo?"

Noel came up beside him to look in and find it empty, sans one individual. The individual he was here to pick up, in fact. Ryce did not respond to either of their presences, eyes staring out vacantly through her bent and lens-cracked glassed out into the ether. A nest of tinsel was tangled so intrinsically into her hair that it almost seemed to grow right out of her scalp. Every so often, the corner of her mouth gave a little tick.

"Ryce?" Noel asked cautiously.

Finally, she seemed to hear him, turning her head in his direction and tilting it to the side, "…there are five lights in here."

Blank stares went back to meet her own, before Captain Stathis gave a sigh and began to unlock the door, "Um…yea…she's been like this since we got her back. You might want to address that."

With the creaking of her cell, Ryce stood from her chair shakily and walked over to the two men. Slowly, she turned her head again to look up at Noel, "…I would like to no longer do the Christmas shopping, please."

"I…think that's fine, Ryce," he reassured her, grabbing her shoulder gently to lead her out of the room and towards the T-Car waiting outside. They managed a few paces before they were once again in front of Steven Novak, who was looking at Ryce with wide terrified eyes.

"**Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn…Cthulhu kngu gt'wan suggoth wu'enh pfchun tgan,**" Ryce said in a perfectly quiet and calm tone, not so much as turning her head to look at the beaten man as they passed him.

Noel cringed away from her slightly as he looked down in quasi-fear, "What did you just tell him?"

"…Merry Christmas…" she lied in a queerly flat voice before looking up to Noel to smile...at least he thought it was a smile.

Noel just shoved her forward and out the door without another word.

The two trudged through the drifting snow in silence before climbing into the driver and passenger side seats of the warm idling vehicle. Once inside, Ryce was able to see the back seat stuffed beyond sight with the gifts and purchases the police had held onto for them. A top of this mountain laid the crushed "OMFG TOYZ!" bag, almost like the star of a Christmas tree composed entirely of gifts.

Ryce stared at it…

…and then burst into tears.

"…Can't this wait until we're home," Noel sighed and put the car into gear as he mumbled too low for her to hear, "when Rob, Nigel and Star can deal with it."

"I j-jus' wanted t-t-to help," she sobbed.

"I know, Ryce…but you can't…"

"NO! All I w-wanted t'do..*snnf*….was…was COOK. I did a-all the r-research for holiday COOKIN' cause t'other stuff confused me," she hiccupped, her eyes wide and a bit scary behind her broken glasses. Noel cringed and tried to focus on the road as the hysterics began to creep into her hyperventilating voice, "But NO…Ryce can't cook…cause t'only thin' she's not uncomfortable wit' up-upsets a r-retarded fish man. Ryce has t-to go get t'crap kicked out'a her for a numb-chuckin' DOLL! I want my kitchen and my knives and my food and I – there's tinsel in my eye and some li'l kid stuck a candy cane in my hair aft'a his baby sister sicked up on me in line and then some guy asked me t'suck his yule log for a doll that he did'n even have b'fore that man knocked me down and broke the chestnut lovin' doll and **I WANT MY KITCHEN**!"

* * *

"_**RYCE!**_" Tim bellowed as they came into the tower, stalking up to the young maid. A strange, white substance was dripping down his hair.

Noel sighed, though there was some protectiveness on his stance. "Tim, wait. Maybe we shou-"

"You're going back to the kitchen!" Tim said over Noel, his voice _brimming _with authority.

Silence.

"Huh?" Both said dumbly.

"Kitchen! You!" Tim snarled, pushing Ryce ahead. "You're going to go back to that land of the Lost, do what you can, and make dinner, and you're not getting out until you're done! Got it?"

Ryce stared blankly at him.

"You know what?" Robin pressed on, "It doesn't _matter_ if you get it! You know why? 'Cause _I_ say so! I'm the leader! My word is _**law**__!_ So there! You're stuck on kitchen duty and babysitting those other banshees 'till the _end of time itself!_ HAH! What do yo-?"

But whatever else he would have said was drowned out when Ryce lunged herself at his frame, hugging him with surprising strength for such a small person.

"…Yeah…" Robin muttered weakly. "Take that."

Ryce sniffled into his shirt and then reached up, kissing his cheek. "…Thank you," she whispered gently, before rushing off to the kitchen.

Seconds later, Rob was violently thrown out the door, looking utterly confused as the young British woman climbed up on the counter to hug the toaster oven, a cast iron pan tucked under her one arm like a child's teddy bear.

Tim turned to find Noel grinning at him. "…I'm a firm, but fair leader who stands by his decisions!" he whined.

"I'm sure you are."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, Rob got you with the mashed potatoes, huh?" Savior later asked.

"Huh?" Robin blinked.

"The gunk on your hair," the white-haired man motioned.

"Oh. This?" Robin said tiredly. "No. This is the turkey."

Noel stared.

"…I'm going to go take a shower now."

And so it was that the following days came to pass. Light into night and then once more, bringing the entire world to that exciting night of the twenty-fourth. The smells of a roast and sausage stuffing wafted from the kitchen in which Sophie and Tara preformed their assigned duties, allowed in once more, under Ryce's tyrannical rule— though apparently, a nervous breakdown had given their younger chef a gentler hand.

"EUREKA!" came a shriek from down the hall, making both women jump nearly a foot in the air. They looked towards the doorway warily and then back to each other.

"…I…really don't want to see what she did," Sophie whispered as the scream was being followed by maniacal laughter.

Terra nodded in quiet agreement, even as she removed her oven mitts and placed them on the counter. By the time they reached the hall, the other Titans – having heard the scream – had also accumulated out of masochistic curiosity.

"What did she do?" Tim sighed, looking at the closed door.

"No one knows…she's been running between the kitchen and this room since Noel brought her home from the police station," Terra informed him.

Sophie nodded, coming up beside her alien boyfriend, "She keeps taking whatever it is she's making in there with her, piece by piece."

"…my bet is a bomb," Robert said as he gave a sage nod.

Whatever the other bets may have been, they were never voiced as the locked door gave a loud click before flying open. The knob slammed into the wall with nearly enough force to dent it, revealing one, Alaryce Gallagher, hair sticking up in a wild mess. The gathered flinched at the sight of the impossible, wide rictus grin on her face. She gripped the doorframe and leaned out towards them, tilting her head like the Disney version of the Cheshire cat.

"I _did _it," she purred out at them.

"I am so very sure I will regret this," Raven sighed, "But did _what_ exactly, Ryce?"

All she could seem to do was smile and swing her form in and out of the doorway, balancing herself on the frame, "_It." _

Without another word, Ryce ducked back into the dark room, leaving the door open in what they had to assume was an invitation inside. All granting one another cautious looks of worry they filed in. Soon they were all standing together in the dark, their only light coming from the hall.

And then the door slammed shut.

"Aaaand we're all gonna die," Robert sighed, "I really was hoping I wouldn't die at the hands of five-foot-nothing asthmatic teenager in the middle of a Holiday-inspired psychotic break."

"I would think you would be more worried dying a virgin," Tara observed.

"Oh, you are just _precious_," he grumbled into the dark.

"Shhhhhh," came Ryce's oddly eerie whisper.

And then there was light, but not light from the fixture overhead.

Tiny LED glows flooded the table that they had not seen due to the blackness. So many of them in fact that the room itself seemed to glow, revealing a display of gingerbread that expanded from one end of the room to the other.

Ryce had built Jump City out of gingerbread.

"Eeeeeeeee!" she squealed shrilly bouncing excitably on her heels. Her gaze kept darting from the to-scale recreation of their city to the shocked expression of her teammates, "Well! What do you think!"

Several of them winced away from her, cringing at the volume and shrillness of her voice. Regardless of that, the cookie-composed city was indeed beyond impressive. Tiny stores and apartment buildings were carved into the cookie faces with meticulous care, hundreds upon hundreds of tiny candy windows glowing with the light of the LED lights she had installed inside them. Drifts of powder sugar 'snow' littered the landscape, peppered with delicate sugar spun trees that almost looked to be made of glass. She had even included the bay, the blue color of the textured sugar an almost perfect match. Tiny sugar waves lapped up unto a cookie island and the large T-shaped building it housed.

"I am not sure if we should be enrolling you in a culinary school or a mental institution," Robin said, his tone betraying just how impressed he was.

"Tha's not ALL!" she reported at a near yell, producing a box filled with little people shapes. Dipping her hand into the rows, she pulled out what was clearly a tiny Robin. On further inspection, they could see the box was filled with all of their tiny cookie selves, each drawn on with painstaking detail in royal icing.

"These are awesome," Robert observed, looking through the box before glancing up to see her smiling forcibly at him, "Um…are you okay?"

Her head tilted slightly, "YEA WHY!"

The others looked over in shock, Nigel stepping forward and raising his hand to catch her attention, "Ryce…do you know how…well…LOUD you are being?"

"No…" her voice came out at nothing more than a whisper, "I haVEN'T slept IN three DAYS!"

"…mental institution it is," Raven replied, not looking up from her observation of the cookie city. Ryce seemed to find this unbelievably funny and began to giggle hysterically, quickly gripping the cookie box that her laughter was disturbing. Eyes widening, the alien doctor quickly removed it from her hands allowing them to come up and cover her snickering, hiccupping mouth. His worried glance fell from her to the cookies that reflected their miscellaneous appearances…along with someone else's.

"…why on earth would you make a Lord of the Night cookie?" Nigel asked her, staring at her with wide eyes.

"It would have been rude not to!" she said with that unbalanced grin, "I sent him a Christmas present too!"

"You WHAT!" Noel yelled reeling on her, "You know where he hides?"

Ryce gave a high-pitched giggle and waved him off, before returning to playing with her creation, "HAH! Nooooooo…I put it in the mail! To: The Lord of the Night, 666 M'a PYSCHO Lane!"

And then she was back to that laughing.

* * *

"…Master…is that a Christmas present?" Marissa asked.

"…_**yes**_," The Lord sighed rubbing his head in annoyance, "_**A fruitcake."**_

He read the tag out loud, _**"Love, Alaryce, Adam and…who the hell is Patricia?"**_

* * *

"Aaaand I think little Ryce needs a nap," Sophie said quietly, staring at the still giggling teenager in worry.

So concerned over their friend's clear exhaustion and the effect it was having upon her mental state, no one noticed as two of their number slipped quietly from the room. Victor's internal alarm had blared, and a single glance had caught Garfield's attention.

Time to move.

* * *

A cold wind bit at the Titans some forty minutes later. Their hidden position, even with its rather closed-in environment, did little to nothing to shield them from the freezing gust. Garfield gave a violent shiver, tugging his coat around his lithe frame all the more tightly.

"Dude…who's lame idea was it to mess with the weather again this year," he complained bitterly.

"Yours," Cyborg snapped a bit more harshly than he probably intended, "Couldn't just have a dusting…you and Star and Rob insisted on a white Christmas."

"…Oh yea," Beast Boy blushed a bit and ducked his head with the memory. In an attempt to distract himself, he looked down to his COM, flipping it open to check the time, "Fifteen minutes late…aw man…where IS this guy?"

"Suppose this is a bad time to say 'I told you so' about the timing, huh?"

A flat glare was Cyborg's only answer, proving his attempts at making light of this were crashing and burning quite horribly, "Sorry…listen, if he's not here in five minutes, you go and get your necklace and I'll wait."

Even before he was completely finished, the agitation was bleeding out of the green shifter's face as he shook his head, "Don't be stupid. I wouldn't just leave ya behind. But…you don't think Ryce's dad is jerking us around, do you? Some sort of weird angel holiday joke?"

"Nope!"

"How do you know?" Garfield frowned at his quick and unquestioning response. Cyborg glanced at him before nodding his head forward.

"Because he's walking right towards us."

And so he was, Garfield discovered. Completely enshrouded in a long trenchcoat and large hat, it was impossible to see the courier's face. He moved without hesitation…with purpose. Soon he was nearly right beside them, still not quite seeing them.

Cyborg broke the silence, "You him?"

"Him who?" the man asked clearly, keeping his face ducked. There was something of amusement in his tone.

"The Mage Po'tse Mag," Beast Boy supplied before his teammate had the chance. There was no mistaking the amusement this caused the shrouded man this time: hell, he was actually laughing at them.

"Wow…just wow," he chuckled, "That's cute. Yeah, sure. That's me alright. You both Ryle's boys, then?"

He did not wait for them to answer that. Instead, he reached into his jacket, letting out another low laugh when both Titans visibly tense, "Lighten up, guys. Ryle knows how it goes…tell him it's just like the last one."

The package was small…no bigger than a medium sized book. In what the Mage perhaps thought was a witty touch, it had been wrapped in festive paper and a large bow placed in its center. He tossed it to Garfield with an air of carelessness that made the two young men nearly fall over suffering from heart attacks before the box landed with a quiet thud into the shifter's hands, the breath that Beast Boy did not even know that he had been holding finally released as he looked back up.

The Mage was already making his way down the pier, his back to them.

"Wait!" Cyborg called after him, "Now what?"

"Now what?" Po'tse Mag called back with another bark of laugher, "You two are the delivery boys! Go deliver!"

"That seemed…odd," Beastboy muttered, looking at the man disappear into the night. "You don't think it's a trick, do you?"

"If it is, it's Azrael's problem," Cyborg replied, taking the box with him slowly and peering at it. "I'd scan it, but I doubt I could see anything…But we can be sure it's not fragile, since the jerkwad mage just _threw _it at us. We won't have to walk on eggshells all the way back. At the very least, that's good to know…"

"Um… Vic?" Beastboy called.

Cyborg stared at the box cautiously for a few more seconds, "huh?" the man started, as if coming out of a trance. Whatever was inside, he realized, held some sort of power over him and he didn't like thinking about what that could mean. They needed to get rid of it as soon as possible. "What is it?"

"Is he coming back?" Beastboy asked, pointing.

Cyborg followed his signal, peering ahead.

Indeed, the dark form of the courier was rushing back towards them, his trenchcoat and hat shielding him to the cold winds.

Cyborg raises his hand to call out…but stopped, for some reason. Something was nagging at him. Something…wasn't right.

Something that clearly escaped Beast Boy's notice, apparently, because he didn't hesitate. "Hey!" he called to the figure, drawing his attention. "What's wrong? Something we should know about?"

The shadowed figure paused its stride for a second, and then rushed forward, at a quicker pace.

And then it dawned on Cyborg: The courier had been taller, and not quite as stocky, a limp in his step he hadn't noticed before had become far more pronounced when the man rushed.

This wasn't the courier.

"B!" Cyborg hisses, pulling his friend back, ignoring his yelp of surprise. Gears shifted, and the soft hum of the sonic cannon filled the air just as the man reached them, pausing once it was trained on him.

Under the fluorescent light, Cyborg started to think that he may have been a little to trigger happy. The man squinting at the light before him appeared to be a homeless person – an older, exceptionally dirty man, using his hairy hands to shield his eyes from the brightness. An unkempt, thick beard matted with dirt and other unpleasant things covered most of his face, which was perhaps a blessing given his less-than-flattering features.

There was also the stench.

Beast Boy seemed the most repulsed by the last one, but Cyborg schooled his face into detached seriousness. "Sir, what are you doing here?" he asked, cannon still aiming.

The man moved around erratically, making odd, undecipherable noises under his breath. He made vague motions towards them, uselessly.

Cyborg frowned, "Sir?"

The man flailed his arms more frantically, trying to convey some sort of message.

"…Vic," Beast Boy muttered quietly.

"I see it," Cyborg muttered back. The trenchcoat and hat… they weren't similar. They were the same ones the courier had worn.

The only difference was that these had large stains that looked black under the cannon's blue light, and that Cyborg suspected would be red otherwise.

"…_**nnnngggghhh…**_"

The Titans tensed at the sound coming from the man before them.

"…_**giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiveeee… uuuuuuuussssssssss…**_" he hisses in a clipped, hissing tone, struggling to spit out the words as if not used to the language.

Beast Boy shuddered at the tone, but steeled his shoulders. "What are you, Gollum?"

But the man was no longer listening, nor looking at either of them. His eyes were only for one place: The box in Cyborg's hand.

"…_**GGGGIIIVvvvee… uuuUUUuusss!**_" he hissed once more, a clear threat in its tone now. As he spoke, the pupils on his eyes grew and dilated impossibly, overtaking the white with a watery sheen to it – like the eyes of a fish.

"_No,_" Cyborg said gravely, opening a compartment on his leg and quickly dumping the box in.

In retrospect, he could have been more cautious about it, as with an angry cry, the man lunged for him.

"Cyborg!" Beastboy cried, leaping for his friend, already in mid-transformation.

He needn't have bothered, as the man went flying courtesy of Cyborg's high-powered kick, sending him crashing along the concrete.

"I'm ok," Cyborg snapped, stumbling to his feet, only to fall down as his leg caught on something.

Cursing, he looked down to see that a…pink, spongy rope had wrapped around it, the tip of it seizing the box and dragging it back in a flash like a wet snake, retreating into the man as he slowly stood up.

Into his mouth.

"…_Sick, dude!_" Beast Boy groaned.

The creature – because it could no longer be called a man – gave a wicked, triumphant smile and turned heel, running off.

"After him!" Cyborg yelled. A green cheetah ran past him before he was even finished speaking, leaving him quickly in the dust.

Cyborg frowned at that, "I have _got _to get a jetpack or something…"

The creature limped into the night, going faster than thought possible for something in such condition.

It was all pointless against the fastest known land mammal in the planet, but the effort was commendable nonetheless.

The green bison – Beast Boy transformed after picking up enough momentum – rammed into his back and crushed him into the ground, pinning him there even as he gave mad shrills and struggled.

"Oh no, you _don't_," the green hero growled. "I'm tired of putting up with this crap and I'm _not _going to be late to the store because of some little no-name monster, now _give me that bo-_"

The thing spat on him.

"_Ughhhh!_" Beast Boy screamed, stumbling backwards on reflex. "It's all yellow and… _chunky! How is it chunky!_"

The being let out a hyena laugh and scampered off, but not before the half-blind shapeshifter saw the box in his hand and dove for it, dragging him down along.

What followed was probably the wussiest heroic epic battle in history, as both hero and villain struggled and rolled around together, each trying to pry the box from the other.

Which was certainly Cyborg's cue to catch up.

"…Er… B?" He called out.

"He's stronger than he looks!" Beast Boy, now a gorilla, defended. "And I'm afraid to pull too hard and break the box! Hit him with the cannon!"

"I can't! I'll hit you!"

The creature garbled angrily at Beast Boy, spittle and snot flying from its mouth.

"_FIND AN OPENING THEN!_" a thoroughly disgusted gorilla whined.

"Or…!"

And then the creature was ripped from Beast Boy, giving a surprised hiss as he was held by the back of the trenchcoat like a child. Beast Boy reverted to human form at that, having somehow managed to retain the box. "Phew…"

"Hah," Cyborg grinned at his prisoner. "Not so tough now, huh, litt-?"

He spat at him.

"…Yeah, he does that," Beast Boy muttered, standing.

Cyborg stared at him.

Seconds later, a thick, dense beam of pure raw, blue power carried the creature into the nearest abandoned warehouse, which then collapsed upon itself, burying him.

"…Geez, Vic," Beast Boy blinked, "The little guy wasn't that bad. Isn't that a little bit of an overkill-?"

"_NO,_" he growled. "Come on, we've wasted enough time."

They turned to leave.

"**Si'nari vi na ot'afiesta xinctoria.**"

The words made them pause in their steps. And then the sounds of shifting rock and dust made them turn.

"What the…" Cyborg goggled.

The creature had discarded the trenchcoat, pushing the tons of rubble away with worrying ease, and stood in a slouch, naked. Cyborg and Beast Boy were witness to this disturbing show only for a second, before his form started shifting.

He grew taller, black hair and fur growing all over his body as one of his knees snapped forward long with his jaw, fangs protruding from its mouth on synch with ram's horns and tail. The demonic faun stood before them, darkness fogging at his legs – one cloven, one humanlike and clawed – and taking the form of a straw-bag on his back, filled with cruel-looking birch rods, and dark, rusted chain around its wrists, snapping against the ground like whips.

Its fish eyes blinked through double eyelids at them, tilting its head. "**Nirund'ai kja Krampus luyron.**"

"…Holy crap," Beast Boy said.

"I liked him better when he wasn't a homey," Victor scowled, aiming his cannon again. "…Wow, if I wasn't black, how racist would that be?"

The beam of light that somehow was sonic raced again at the monstrosity, who lifted its left hand in a sweeping gesture, mad a rippling motion of his fingers, drawing his hand towards his mouth and ate the beam.

….He _ate _it.

He _ate _the _beam_.

"…That," Cyborg said with wide eyes, "is incredibly unfair."

Beast Boy said nothing, opting instead to change into a grizzly bear, growling.

"**Kontui nunda **_**THE BOX!**_" the monster demanded, stomping his foot harshly against the ground. The concrete cracked.

The pair looked at each other for one second, and then back.

"No."

* * *

"We should have said 'yes'," Beastboy groaned, leaning against the wall on his hiding spot inside an old tool shed. His outfit, while not destroyed was covered in cuts and slashes, angry-red surface cuts beneath them.

Cyborg sat next to the window and kept a look out, his armor filled with small dents and near cracks. "I can't believe we're running away from a glorified monkey," he grumbled, looking around the shed for any makeshift weapons – his cannon may be useless, but they had learned that physical attacks were, at the very least, more of an inconvenience to their enemy.

"Monkeys are vicious," Beast Boy replied, pushing himself to his feet. "What the _hell _is that thing anyway? Who carries around birch rods?"

"Demons, I'd say," Cyborg replied distractedly. He had to be thankful for Azrael's choice of delivery place: The abandoned lot of warehouses was…well, abandoned. With the collateral damage the fight had caused so far, he was thankful that at least no one was getting hurt, nor were they drawing any attenti—"B! He's coming!"

Beast Boy quieted down and moved over next to him, peering outside.

The potential demon scouted the area before them, limping along with its mismatched legs and his grotesque tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth, tasting the air like a snake: that's how he tracked them. He turned his head this way and that, slowly hovering closer to the shed.

Cyborg had armed himself with all the weapons available to him, here meaning 'old gardening tools', and braced himself, moving towards the door. He looked at his best friend, silently asking if he was ready.

Beast Boy nodded, shifting into a tiger.

By now, the monster was moving directly towards them, so Cyborg kicked at the door with all his might, sending it soaring at him.

"NOW!"

Their enemy saw the door bearing down on him, and slapped it aside with a lazy flick of its chains…only to reveal Cyborg, swinging down a leaf rake.

"**Tin nioron h'hevak natou! Q'otrik wuna SK'LLAS'DANE!**" the monster roared angrily, using its chain as some form of defense, managing to absorb the impact, but leaving himself completely open to the tiger's lunge.

He hissed in agony when the great hunter's claws tore into him, and his tongue lashed out to wrap around Beast Boy's neck, pressure cutting of his oxygen almost instantly and forcing him to let go.

Pressing on the advantage, the hairy beast tightened its slimy grip, before Cyborg got him in the face with his weapon, making it scramble away.

"I know it's the season of giving," Cyborg yelled as he struck away, "but I think I'd prefer to _rake_ in your pain!"

"…_WHAT?_" Beast Boy shouted in between gasps for breath.

"Hey, neither Gauntlet or Metatron are here," Cyborg called back, not slowing, "someone's gotta to the quips!"

"_I'm _right here!"

"Oh yeah, like that's mattered since The Epic of Gauntl-" but the Author's refusal to break the Fourth Wall was too strong, as the battered rake finally exploded into a million splinters from its violent usage, "-oh, SHI-"

That was all Cyborg managed to get out – conveniently censoring his inappropriate wording as well – before he was head-butted into the ground, the thing giving a mad war cry as it returned the favor tenfold, his powerful arms hammering into his backs like a drum, dozens more of the tiny dents forming in less than three seconds.

"Cyborg!" Beast Boy, morphing into a hunting hound and pouncing onto the demon's back, clamping down on its neck.

Screaming, the thing flailed and tried to pry him off while Cyborg was left to recover, but Beast Boy held on strong and it couldn't get a proper hold…that is, until it, instead, pulled out one of its birch rods.

Beast Boy's eyes widened and he jumped away just in time for the creature to hit himself on the back, enraging him as much as hurting him.

Reverting to human form for better footing, Beast Boy was not ready for his opponent's mad lashing out, and was unable to duck the knee that sank into his gut, bending him over it as the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

The demon roared triumphantly, raising his rod to Beast Boy unprotected back with a wild grin, and…struck.

The changeling's eyes widened in as much surprise as pain. "O-OW!"

Cackling, his captor struck again, and again and again.

"OW! OW—HEY! STO—OW! OW, OW! SON OF A B—OW! STO—I SAID _**STOP!**_"

The last word came out as an animalistic roar, as red flooded the 'boy's vision and he transformed into the savage, gargantuan beast that took over during moments of extreme duress: The Beast Within. The Primal hunter.

Primal roared angrily, his hand seizing the demon's entire head like a baseball and bringing it up close to him.

Even he seemed surprised by the beast bearing his fans at him.

"**Tatuini…?**"

_**CRACK!**_

The devastating punch thundered throughout the battle site, the demon flying in a wide arch before crashing into a building – also abandoned – nearly a mile away.

"B!" Cyborg called, limping over.

Primal snapped his head towards him, a rumbling growl coming from him.

"Whoa!" Cyborg said, raising his hands. "B, it's me. It's Victor."

The hulking mass of muscle before him hesitated…but then he was shrinking back to human, gasping for breath. "Ugh…"

"What happened?" Cyborg asked worriedly.

"What _happened?_" Beast Boy snapped. "That thing _spanked_ me!"

Cyborg stopped moving entirely and stared, incredulously. "Say what?"

"That thing!" Beast Boy stammered, going red with indignity, "It spanked me! What the hell kind of perverted thing are we fighting?"

Cyborg stared. "…The Krampus."

"Huh?"

"That thing's the Krampus!"

"What the hell is a Krampus?"

"It's-"

But the roar caught their attention, and they both turned to see their demon enemy rushing towards them, angry.

"It's a Christmas legend!" Cyborg replied, getting ready.

"This thing's about _Christmas?_" Beast Boy cried. And then blinked. "We're fighting an evil Christmas entity? _Again?_"

"It's a demon!" Cyborg explained, picking up his old weapons as his mechanical eye shined the way Beast Boy knew meant he was scanning the internet. "Christmas demon, according to legend he's partners with Santa, and while Santa gave gifts to good kids, the Krampus punished the evil ones, spanking them, beating them. Hell, apparently Austria has a tradition to dress up as him to scare children!"

"…What the hell is wrong with Austrians?" Beast Boy could only think to ask, turning into a Big Foot as the Krampus bore down on them. "…Wait, if he's real, does that mean Santa's r-?"

"Don't tell Ryce."

"Right."

And then they were both forced to duck as the black hairball of Christmas lunged for them.

"But we're _heroes!_" Beast Boy protested. "We're not evil!"

"Not children eithe—oof!" Cyborg yelped as the demon's tongue wrapped around his ankle and swept him off his feet, the box falling off its compartment.

The Krampus dove for it.

"Ack! B! Hot potato!" Cyborg yelled, kicking the box away, where Beast Boy caught it and jumped out of reach.

Their enemy turned towards him, growling, but Cyborg pulled him back.

"Oh, Mr. Krampus, I know you've been a Grinch for the longest time, but I'm sure if we hit hard enough, we can _dig up_ some Christmas spirit!" he yelled, breaking a shovel over his head.

"Don't start that again!" Beast Boy moaned.

"I'm _distracting _him so he _doesn't go after the box!_" Cyborg defended through clenched teeth, his friend looking momentarily ashamed. "Let's you and I _bury the hatchet!_" he grinned, swinging a mud-crusted hatchet.

Beast Boy's shame died, "that one doesn't even make _sense!_"

He winced when the Krampus, this time ready, smacked the weapon away with a malevolent grin.

But Cyborg was ready too. "No, huh? Then looks like it's _curtains_ for you!" he announced, throwing a tattered old curtain over the entity, blinding it.

Beast Boy just groaned as their resilient enemy fought his way out of the cloth.

What greeted him was the sight of Cyborg standing over him, with a garden hoe in each hand.

And then he was being beaten with them, "HOE, HOE, HOE!"

"Oh my god, Cyborg, just _shut the HELL up!_"

Cyborg grinned at him, clearly having more fun than he should have, "Man, these hoes are some _baaaaad _motherfuc-"

"Shut your mouth!" Beast Boy replied automatically.

"I'm just talking about hoes!"

"**T'hu Krampus dig it!**" The Krampus roared, viciously lashing out with a length of chain and almost imbedded itself into Cyborg's chest, sending him crashing back with a surprised scream.

"Oh god, this thing _likes _Shaft!" Beast Boy said, stupefied at the absurdity of it all.

"We're going to _DIE_!" Cyborg moaned in response. "I'm also out of weapons!"

"At least it's not all bad ne—Cy!" Beast Boy yelped, throwing the box at him just as the Krampus tackled him into the ground.

Cyborg caught it and moved to help.

"Wait!" Beast Boy shouted, struggled with the powerful Christmas… demon, "Cy, wait! You know this thing right? What are its weaknesses?"

"I only know of it in passing!" Cyborg replied, "Kinda hard to surf the net while fighting!"

"In case you haven't noticed," Beast Boy strained, wrestling one of its rods from it and pushing it away. "_I'm _doing the fighting! I got this! Research!"

"**J'ill no tama II yDtu lalC,**" the Krampus hissed.

"Right back at you!" Beast Boy spat before lunging, brandishing the rod like Excalibur.

Cyborg hesitated, but complied.

"Anytime now!" his friend shouted, quickly realizing the folly of using the Krampus' own weapon against him.

"…No weaknesses!"

"What?"

"I don't know, I can't find any anywhere! He's a Christmas thing to scare children, he's pretty much invincible!"

The demon cackled.

"Fantastic, boosting the _other's_ team morale," Beast Boy growled, taking the opportunity to kick him in the face as an orangutan, and stalk around him as a puma. "What _do _we know about this thing?"

"Well, he's an expert on torture."

"Of course."

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, I'm the technology guy! All I have is all these Wikipedia articles about what he can do, how he punishes children, and how he sometimes takes the really bad ones and opens the gates of Hell, to drag them with him! That's…literally…everyt…"

Silence fell on the lot, as both Beast Boy and the Krampus turned to look at him.

"…Cyborg," Beast Boy said, as a massive grin bloomed into the demon's face. "…You are the _biggest _moron I've ever met."

And then the air was getting colder, and a slight pull caught them both.

Eyes wide, they turned to the Krampus, to find his watery eyes wide with excitement, carrying his strawbag like a missile launcher…as a tiny, grey light lit up at the bottom of it, and a breeze colder than any winter brushed past them, seeping into their very bones.

"…_Crap!_" Cyborg cried, arming his cannon and forgetting it did nothing, as a terror so primal that had been there, all his life, in the back of his head, roared to life and demanded that he flee, escape, leave his friend behind and _run._

But even if Victor Stone would have been willing to do that, the pull suddenly became all powerful, like a switch – as if it had been waiting for the thoughts to enter his head before denying them.

"No!" Cyborg screams as he was dragged, and he tried to claw out, to escape. "B! B! Transform into a bird! _FLY!_"

But Beast Boy too was being dragged, and Cyborg knew it was with the same absolute grip that held him, the same undeniable certainty that they weren't escaping. The same hushed voiced, whispering incomprehensible nothings to their ears, shaking them to their very souls, and the same feelings of fingers, barely touching, but all the same exploring every part of their bodies… identities… existence…

They met eyes. "…I'm sorry," Cyborg croaked out.

Beast Boy swallowed. He nodded.

They couldn't have heard it.

But the Krampus was laughing at them.

And then it was over, and the Titans were flat on their backs on the cool – but warm, so impossibly warm – snow, on the abandoned lot. Alive. Safe.

It hadn't worked, whatever the Krampus had tried to do.

And then they sat up, looking around in confusion and ignoring the wetness around their eyes. They could no longer remember how the presence of that place had made them feel…but they knew what it had been.

The Krampus stood there, still holding his bag, and looking flabbergasted.

Between him and the Titans, stood… a child. A little girl sucking on a candycane, wearing a pink winter jacket, and a fox-ear black cap as she stared up at the creature, who stared back, unsure.

"Whatchu doin'?" she asked.

The Krampus frowned, putting his bag down, and tried to wave her away. She didn't move.

"You're kind of ugly," she pointed out. "My mommy's makeup kit can help!" she produced a large case, filled with… makeup stuff, I don't know. "C'mon! I'm going to make you pretty!"

"Kid," Cyborg stammered, finally catching his breath, "get away from here."

She turned to him, large blue eyes studying him curiously, before giggling. "Toaster," she whispered under her breath.

"It's dangerous," Beastboy tried, shakily standing.

The Krampus sprang to life, his chains flying towards the green man…and also towards the girl as a result.

"NO!" Cyborg yelled, trying to protect her even as Beast Boy ducked.

He didn't make it in time. He had to watched as the chain touched the girl's head…and instantly reflected back at Krampus, hitting him square in the forehead.

"…buh?" Cyborg and Beast Boy said.

The girl giggled, unbothered. "Tickles!"

The Krampus looked hurt…but not surprised. Annoyed, like he had been expecting that to happen. Once again, he made obvious motions to shoo away the girl, get her to leave.

She just smiled widely at him.

The Krampus scowled, "**Yu wick'wend tah'ranta 'lariss cantuga fel.**"

"That's not a nice thing to say," the girl pouted.

"What the _hell _is going on?" Beast Boy demanded, shaken, and so, so tired.

The Krampus growled and lashed out at him again.

Eyes wide, the green hero did the first thing he thought off: He picked up the 5-year-old girl and held her up in front of him, as a shield.

The chained bounced off harmlessly, and the Kampus said some…very unkind things.

"_B!_" Cyborg yelled, scandalized.

"Hey, it sounded like a good idea! And it _worked!_" Beast Boy defended, looking down at the girl. "…Hey, can this guy hurt good children?"

"I'm a girl," the child said.

Cyborg stared at her, and at the Krampus, who looked like he'd been caught on some sort of ponzi scheme. "…well, he doesn't. Didn't think that he _couldn't_."

Beast Boy frowned…and then walked up to the Krampus, holding the child.

"Careful, B," Cyborg warned.

Nodding, Beast Boy held her up to the demon.

…It shifted away uncomfortably.

"Unbelievable," Beast Boy shook his head tiredly, and then addressed the girl. "…Sweetie? Can you tell him to go away?"

The girl blinked up at him, and then turned to the creature. "…K," she reached over and kissed his forehead. "Bye!"

The Krampus stared. And then fell to his knees, vanishing in an unceremonious 'poof'.

"…_Unbelievable!_" Beast Boy repeated, releasing the breath he had been holding. In his hands the five year-old dangled, lifting up her small hands to pop the candy cane into her waiting mouth. Despite the chaos and violence, the tiny tot managed to look bored. A few snowflakes drifted up with the wind to spiral about the silent trio, their eyes peering suspiciously into the quiet night. No sign of the hairy horned monstrosity rearing its ugly head up from the shadows. A sigh of relief that had been held fell from both their lips.

"…you tell NO ONE that I hid behind a five-year-old," Garfield grumbled, casting a dark look to his teammate.

"You can hide behind a whole NURSERY full of five-year-olds for all I care, B. So long as we don't get thrown into the fiery pits of Hell," Cyborg said before straightening up from leaning on the cool metal of his knees. A curious look came over his face in the next instant as he turned to look at the green changeling in confusion.

"What, in the name of God, is a five-year-old doing wandering through an abandoned shipyard by herself on Christmas Eve?"

Eyes widening, Garfield glanced down to the still dangling child. Gently, he turned the girl to face him, her large blue eyes twinkling at him in quiet disinterest for her predicament. From beneath her fox-eared, black, woolen cap, a few strands of wispy blond hair were poking out. The puffy arm of her coat and a tiny mitten flew up to offer the Titan her half-sucked-away candycane.

"S'chocolate mint!" she quipped.

"Um…sweetie?" Victor started, "Why are you out here by yourself?"

She smiled softly at the two – and dear God if they did not KNOW that smile from somewhere. When she spoke, it came out in a quiet hushed whisper, yet they heard it clearly over the moaning wind, "M'your guardian angel, of course. Sent from on high to protect you this Christmas Eve."

They stared in quiet shock and perhaps some level of questioning awe, Garfield whispering, "…really?"

And then her tiny features twisted into a bored-looking scowl as her eyes rolled sarcastically in her little head, "No, you jackass. M'takin' a shortcut with my daddy. Now put me down! M'gonna be late for the doorway home!"

An embarrassed blush flared across both the young men's features as they set the blond child back down unto the snowy pier. Yanking roughly away from them, she looked back to shake her head in what seemed to be disgust.

"I'm a bit unclear on how this brat is not on that thing's 'naughty' list," Beast Boy grumbled quietly for Cyborg's ears only.

Yet, still the little girl's eyes widened, before narrowing into a glare. Beast Boy started a bit, knowing it to be silly. There was NO way she could have possibly heard tha-

"M'not a BRAT!" she shrieked, lifting her little booted foot and stamping it down on his own. A pained yelp ripped out of the shifter as he began to hop on one foot and hold the injured one up away from the snow and angry child. With a tiny glare and indignant, 'hmph,' she turned her back. In the turning Victor caught sight of a tiny ear, poking out from beneath her hat…and oddly pointed, tiny ear.

"Daddy!" she gave a singsong yell, scuttling down the pier and towards a figure that neither Titan had noticed until now. Standing so far away, it was hard to make him out, but he looked to be in his late twenties, clad in a dark sports coat, some sort of graphic tee shirt and a gray fedora hat. The wind carried his amused laughter on it. When their unpleasantly-moody savior reached him, she was instantly scooped up into his waiting arms and tossed into the air. Joining his amused laughter came a happy shriek before she came back down into his waiting arms. The man turned his attention back to them and lifted his hand in a wave.

"Thanks for findin' her, boys! Merry Christmas toy to ya!" he shouted back, before turning and ambling his way out into the night.

"…I _**know**_ that kid," Cyborg mumbled to himself.

"Yea tell me about-OH CRAP!" Beast Boy's face dropped into a horrified grimace as he checked the time on his COM. Startled, Victor peered over his friend shoulder to look and see what it was that had upset the man. The time blinked steadily back at him.

Six, fifty-six.

"FOUR MINUTES!" the green shifter shrieked, "How…but…I gotta go!"

His form shrunk and melted into itself, feathers ripping out all over him. In a split second, in the green youth's place was an emerald-colored falcon. It screeched unhappily and took to the night air, while Victor wave up at him.

"Go on, man! I'll meet you there!"

Beast Boy did not wait to be told twice.

Cyborg sighed and watched him go. All in all, it could have been worse. But, he realized with a sad frown, there was still the fact that the courier had been killed. That was going to put a damper on everyone's Christmas.

And then the man in question stepped out of an alley, sans coat and hat and looking one hundred percent less mysterious. "Ack!" he cried, scaring the life out of Cyborg. "Have you seen a hobo around? He jumped me and took my coat! And hat!"

"…You're _alive?_"

"…Well of course. It's a Christmas story."

Cyborg stared. "…Ok, you know what, you can get yourself to the hospital, I don't care anymore."

And then he got into his car and drove off.

* * *

It was seven-ten by the time the T-Car pulled up to the curb in front of the jewelry store. Dread began to bubble up inside the driver as he saw his younger friend standing stock still outside the shop. Shifting the car into park, he climbed out to come up and stand beside him. Beast Boy's forehead was leaned up against the store window, leaving a mark in its wake against the clean glass. Eyes shut as if in pain, the young green man sighed.

"Seven-oh-three. I got here at Seven-oh-three."

Victor frowned and looked into the dark shop, "And the guy wouldn't just cut you a break?"

Garfield's eyes cracked open, half lidded and tired, "He wasn't even here. Can't say I blame him…it's Christmas Eve. Wants to get home to his family. I can't BELIEVE I messed this up."

Cyborg sighed and lifted a hand to pat him on the shoulder, "She'll understand, B. Just tell her what happened."

"That's not the point, Cy. I _know_ she'll understand," he sighed pushing away from the window and walking back to the car. His teammate followed him silently, opening the passenger side door as Garfield muttered, "That just makes it worse."

* * *

"I need the cheese, Lardo!" Terra growled

"You will get it when I am DONE!" Sophie responded.

"_**Y-stell'bsna orr'e n'gha mnahn' fm'latgh.**_"

They turned to see Ryce staring at them quietly from the stove, plunging them both into silence. They gazed back at her for a few moments, before Sophie quietly handed the grated cheese over to Terra's waiting hands. A glare from Ryce ensured a quiet meek mumble of thanks was given in return.

"See? Isn't it so much more FUN when we all get along?" Ryce quipped, "And do everything I say."

Neither woman seemed willing to answer that question as they worked on their assigned task without complaint. As for Ryce? She began to hum a quiet little carol as she checked the temperature on the boiling cider. Behind the group, a door slamming somewhere in the Tower was noticed but not responded to. No doubt it had to be Victor and Garfield returning from whatever madness they had to decided to engage themselves in this evening. Ryce tried to rein in her annoyance at their timing. Footsteps approached the kitchen, soon so close as to be placed right outside the door.

Turning around with the warm cider in her hands, she began to point out, "Guys, s'sevent twenty-five. I've spent the past three days cooking. You too better be ready to eat in five minutes cause m'not 'bout to let the food get coooooholy pumpkin spice…what happened to you guys!"

Terra and Sophie started at the alarm in their younger friend's tone, both women turning to see what it was that had caused it. They did not have to look for very long before their eyes found Beast Boy and Cyborg's utterly battered and bleeding forms standing in the kitchen door, clothes torn and faces bruised. Tara dropped the knife in her hand onto the floor as she rushed over to her beaten boyfriend's side.

"Your dad…has some WEIRD as all hell enemies, Ry," Cyborg sighed as he limped over to the kitchen table. Both Ryce and Sophie finally snapped out of their shock and placed their cooking implements down. The heavier of the two ran off into the annals of the Tower to seek out their resident healer as Ryce pulled out a chair for Victor to fall into.

"My dad? But…what does he have to do with this?" she asked.

Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Cyborg was placing the battered 'present' up on the table. The bow had long since been ripped off in the battle, pieces of the formerly bright wrapping torn away to reveal the brown cardboard container beneath. Both Ryce and Terra stared at it in quiet confusion, Ryce releasing the back of the chair to pick it up in her hands.

"What is this?" she asked as Beast Boy shot his best friend a glare.

"Vic! He said not to tell anyone," he hissed as the cybernetic man shrugged.

"Yea…cause he didn't want her involved while we were picking it up. It's safe now so whatever...B, I have snow lodged into circuits and joints that should never see snow. I'm not thinking up a lie right now, okay?" Cyborg sighed.

Ryce, however, no longer seemed interested in lies or the lack there of. Her attention was raptly being held by the ripped and torn paper and the package it was hiding. Ignoring their cries of protest, she tore the paper the rest of the way to reveal the bent and beaten packaging. She turned the brown box over in her fingers, shaking it, even sniffing it as she studied it carefully, "Where did you to get this?"

"You're dad sent us…he said it as imperative that it not fall into the wrong hands. We think it contains some sort of ancient artifact of destruction or something," Garfield informed her.

Victor nodded and reached out to paused her hands, "So please stop shaking it. I don't feel like meeting that creepy Po'tse Mag mage in another dark alleyway, thank you."

Something seemed to light up in the half-angel's eyes and a deep frown crossed her face, "PO'TSE MAG mage?"

As soon as the words had left her mouth another voice called out from the other room, "Mr. Logan! Mr. Stone! Well my boys, how went your mis-" Azrael strolled into the room a content smile upon his handsome face. Until, that is, he saw who was holding the package, "sioooooh…you told her. I told you not to tell her."

Rage began to work its way across his daughter's reddening face as she lifted the box towards him, "PO'TSE MAG MAGE?"

The most interesting of things occurred. Azrael actually began to look nervous, backing away slowly with his hands out in front of him, "Now lovely, remember what the doctor said about your temper and controllin' it."

"YOU STUPID, PICKLE DIPPIN' DIMSUN!" she shrieked and began to hit him with the box. The archangel's eyes widened as he lifted his hands up to defend himself from the assault.

"Oi! Stop that! Ow! Young lady, I am talkin' to y-OW! ALARYCE!" he barked, his hand snatching and ripping the box out of her hands, "Now, that is enough!"

"You could have gotten them killed!" Ryce growled.

Victor stood from the table with a wince, reaching out a hand to place calmingly on Ryce's shoulder, "Ry…calm down. This is part of being a Titan. It's what we do. It wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't have some apocalyptic nightmare breathing down our necks."

"Apocalyptic nightmare!" A humorless bark of laughter ripped out of the girl. Before Azrael could quite slink from the room she ripped the box out of his hand again and pulled out a pen from her pocket. Hastily, she scrawled 'PO'TSE MAG' across the brown cardboard, before shoving into Beast Boy and Cyborg's faces, "Read it BACKWARDS."

Blank looks greeted her for a few seconds before they both peered at the letters. Then, slowly, the color began to drain from their faces which twisted into looks of disbelief. The group turned to look at Azrael, who had suddenly become very interested in the molding on their doorframe. Ryce gave a snarl before ripping the box right in half, freeing the smaller box inside to tumble out onto the table.

"Call of Duty," Ryce hissed, "You nearly got them KILLED for Call of Duty."

"…Call of Duty 2," Azrael pointed out sheepishly before he was pelted in the head by the game box. "Ow! Oh c'mon…you can't be this mad. No one got hurt…everything ended up fine. Your friends did me a favor and got to prove themselves against the Krampus and now I can snipe Dream and Pangloss and listen to them whine like little girls!"

"**OUT!"**

The Angel of Death gave a decidedly feminine 'eep' before his form faded in a swirl of dark haze and black feathers. Ryce cursed in the only way she currently could and returned to her cooking, a pointed look from her sending the other two women to do the same.

Garfield…could only stare at the torn brown box in silence. The universe was laughing at him. It had to be. All this…for a stupid game. He had lost his chance and months of meticulous saving and scrounging and picking up extra work. And all for a GAME. If he wasn't so sure it would end with him in tears, he would have laughed at the whole situation. Instead, he shambled into their living room and up to the Christmas tree to stare at it solemnly.

"Guess I should write her a nice letter and explain what happened," he sighed, eyes scanning the mountain of gifts at its base.

And then he saw it.

Wrapped in bright gold paper that flickered with the tree lights blinking. A white gauzy bow had been meticulously tied around the small present, careful not to obscure the tag that clearly addressed its contents to Tara. Disbelief etched into his features as he picked it up from its place atop her other gifts. It was clearly a jewelry box under the paper. No one else was about to buy his girlfriend jewelry…which could only mean…

"You can give me the money tomorrow," a voice said softly from beside him.

He turned to look at their petite maid who was smiling quietly up at him. She pointed to the tag and whispered, "Miiiiight wanna fill that out, though."

"Why…How…when…" the shifter sputtered.

"One: 'cause you're my friend…and I thought you might mess this up. Two: I spend more of my father's cash in that place then you can EVER imagine so m'good friends with the owner…and three: before I had a nervous breakdown and assaulted a man with a plastic candy cane," she replied with a tired smile, "Seriously…fill that thing out…get healed…and wash the crap off of you. If my food gets cold I'm goin' to probably go into a psychotic break and I don't think tha's very festive."

* * *

And so dinner came to pass, with laughter and mirth. Even the bickering and baiting between Terra and Sophie seemed to take a break in the face of the holiday merriment. Dessert followed dinner without a hitch – unless you were to count Ryce's fondue flambé nearly setting the fire alarm off as a problem…and no one seemed to.

Before any of them knew it, they were gathering about the festive tree in their living area looking through the respective gift piles. Most were attempting to select their evening gift. Another year of their tradition of opening one gift and saving the remaining for the morning.

Trying to be as discreet as possible, Nigel slipped up next to the tree, eyes shifting from side to side in watch. Confident he was not being observed, he leaned down and attempted to tape a box of nicotine patches to the top of one of the presents.

"Nigel."

The doctor turned to find Sophie glaring at him. Looking from her to his addition he pouted, "...I got her a hat too… don't give me that look."

As Sophie attempted to convince him to remove the inciting item, their housemates continued to mill about, sipping their Christmas-y – and for most of them nonalcoholic – drinks and looking at the presents curiously. A few even began to settle in and toss parcels to their respective parties. Some were shaking the boxes to guess contents...some just talking with one another animatedly.

Someone...was missing.

Robert noticed relatively quickly. After all nothing was blowing up and no one was launching into manically loud fits of laughter. Once again wondering why she would ever not find him attractive – I mean that's just silly, what possible reason could she have, c'mon – Robert stood, wanting to voice his concerns to his teammates.

But once he had looked at them, enjoying each other's company in the simple – if not slightly materialistic – pleasure of gift-giving, he seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth with a soft sound, shaking his head. Getting lost in the chaos, he turned to start making the rounds.

"Outside smoking," Noel pointed out to him as he walked by.

Rob paused at the words, momentarily feeling like he had been caught with his hand on the cookie jar. He cleared his throat in a poor attempt at nonchalance, nodding and walking towards the door. There was perhaps a 'thank you' in his retreat, but it was really impossible to tell with all the other background noise.

For a moment, Noel watched him leave, looking like he might have been on the verge of saying something. Yet, he too seemed to think better of it, and with a shake of his head returned to the festivities.

Meanwhile, as Robert waited for the elevator, his eyes moved up to the frame around the metal doors... and found the forgotten mistletoe in the middle of it. With a grin, he swiped it – no one had thought to make use of it, so it was rather pretty pointless anyway – and slipped it into his pocket, as the soft _ding_ of the elevator alerted him to the opening doors. He entered, a saunter in his step.

Within a minute, another of the musical – at least they were to him this night – chimes sounded, and he stepped, first out of the elevator, and then out of the Tower entirely. The snow had fallen fresh again. The blond had to question if they had overdone it with the weather…again. Then again, even if they had, no one could say that it was anything but quite pretty, the whole of the landscape white and frozen. He couldn't help but hope that Noel didn't look outside and threw a fit over their messing with the climate again.

But really none of that mattered. Standing on their front stairs, he could see her – the reason he was even out here in the first place – sitting in the snow some yards down the way. Her back was to him and she did not seem aware that anyone had come out of the Tower.

He smiled, at first. But as he made his way down the walk, a frown began to form in his approach: She was in the cold, apart from the others. A glaring reminder of how she used to be.

Ryce was humming quietly, sitting cross-legged in the snow, she did not seem to care that the cold and wet mixture was probably soaking her pants through.

"Christmas Eve...will find me...Where the love light beams..." she whispered quietly, her fingers drawing little patterns in the snow. The rest was lost in wordless humming.

"If only on my dreams?" Rob continued tentatively, announcing himself as he sat next to her.

Only to shoot up a second later, letting out a yowl of surprise as he jumped to his feet, slapping the shockingly cold snow out of his rear, "JEEBUS! How can you stand that?"

Ryce flinched in surprise and tried to jump up to her feet, which ended in her slipping and tumbling back down onto her rear. Rob reached out to catch her, managing to take some of the impact out of the fall. This at least allowed her to sit back into her spot.

"Stand what?" she asked, head tilted in confusion.

"The snow," Rob pointed out the obvious, "You know. Wet? Cold? Leaves an..." he frowned at the back of his jeans, "embarrassing stain. How long have you been out here?"

"...oh...aye...aye, you're right. S'kinda cold," she said distractedly, working her way to her feet once more. She made a point to not address his other question, her foot sliding something behind her out of his sight.

Rob blinked, her movements lost on him. He smiled a bit though, "Ryce... you do know there's a Christmas celebration going on behind us, right? You didn't get confused and think standing out in the snow is a tradition or something?" His smile widened encouragingly, "'Cause...you _are_ invited, you know. We do want you there. And your singing's not that bad."

Standing there in the snow, she looked at him for a moment as if not getting that he was teasing her. The blank look held up for a few seconds, before she gave a shake of her head. A laugh fell from her mouth, and the shaking turned to a nod, "Hehe...yea…I know I jus'...um I came outside to..."

She trailed off, biting her lower lip and looking down at the ground as if she did not quite know why she was out here now that she had been asked. Nearly a full minute of uncomfortable silence passed between them. Enough to worry Robert a bit.

"Ryce?" Rob asked, confused.

"...aye?"

"You just trailed off," Rob shrugged, bending a bit to be at eye-level with her, "Are you sure you're ok? I mean... I know it's been pretty crazy, but I think it's been as nice a first Christmas as they get with us."

A thoughtful look crossed her face as she looked up at him and smiled softly, "S'been an awesome Christmas Rob...best I've ever had in fact...m'jus'..." her eyes lit up and a hand flew to her pocket, pulling a small cardboard and foil pack from inside, "Came out to have a smoke! Tha's it!"

She quickly shoved one of the cigarettes into her mouth, holding it there, her words a bit muffled and slurred by doing so, "Indeed...shigarettes tha'sh it"

"...Wow..." Rob blinked before adding in an impressed manner, "You have NEVER been this transparent."

Regardless, he just kept smiling, and moved over to be closer to her. "Ok. I don't really like it when you have cig-breath," his fingers unconsciously touched the mistletoe in his pocket, "but if you want. We go in afterwards though, ok? We can be with the others."

She nodded, pulling a book of matches from her pocket and trying to strike them. Her hands fumbled with them though, sending the first match tumbling into the snow with a barely audible hiss.

"...shure...get rid of the nicotine craving then in we go," she added, her fingers once again losing another match.

"Your hand is numb, you know," Rob reached for the box, taking it from her pale hands gently, "Here, let me."

His own fingers did not fare much better, equally as fumblesome with the matches – he was no expert at using them either, after all. Eventually, though the match gave a pop and sizzle as it flared to life. Ryce cupped it gently from the wind and leaned her smoke into it. The end sizzled, lit, and she leaned back inhaling the acrid taste.

Rob threw the match into the snow and settled back, watching her profile. "So...how was it?"

"How was what?" she asked, her breath and the cigarette smoke floating from her lips.

"Everything, I guess," Rob settled on after a moment's thought, "It's not often when I can ask a fully-grown woman how her first Christmas was."

She chuckled and nodded, looking up at the night sky, "Chaotic...bit tiring. Could have done without the pants-peein' terror of Santa. But over all? S'been nice. Real...warm and nice."

"And happy, right?" Rob grinned, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

"..." silence fell over her, her eyes somewhere else, before she finally gave a wan little smile and nodded again, "...yea."

Her eyes glanced down to the snow – towards her feet – before darting back up. This time Robert did notice, blinking and following her gaze. What he ended up finding was a box sitting in the snow behind her. A present to be exact, meticulously wrapped in shiny black wrapping paper. Where she had found black wrapping paper, he had no idea, but there it was just the same, with a bright yellow bow tapped about it.

She noticed him looking and drew it behind her with her foot again, "As I said...Best Christmas I've ever had...sorry for the crazies."

"Um... Don't worry about it?" Rob began tentatively, "...Ryce? Won't it get spoiled if you leave it on the snow?"

Her eyes widened at his comment, and she quickly snatched it back up from the ground. With a hiss, she began to quickly wipe the snow from the bottom, "Shirt! Shirt shirt shirt! Stupid tractoring me," she grumbled, drying it on the front of her pants.

The Titan could not help but chuckle at her distress, using his scarf to help her dry it off, "I'm sure you're not a tractor, Ryce. You're a scooter at most!"

The joke drew a few snickers from her, eyes rolling about at how corny it was. Almost unnoticed, her cigarette had burned low to the filter, nearly singing her fingertips. The sudden warmth was what brought to her attention. Before he could say anything, she took out another one and used the nearly spent twin to light its end.

"Ah ah ah ah," Rob said, catching her and taking the cigarette away from her lips, "We said one, remember?"

Even her pouting did not seem to sway his opinion on this one.

"Come on," he prodded gently, "Let's go inside. It's warm. And, I know you like your fixes, but you can't like it more than spending Christmas with us, can you? There's a pile of gifts waiting for you, too."

She looked over to the cigarette in his hand and then at him. There was something going on behind her eyes. Something he could now quite put his finger on even as he flicked the smoke out into the snow to be rendered useless. He expected a fight on that…or at least a whine. What he found was her turning, slowly, to look out over the bay...down the beach...even up at the sky. With every passing second she deflated more and more.

"...y-yea...warm," she, finally, agreed, voice cracking. Yet, when she turned back, her eyes are dry and unreadable, "You're right...let's go see what nicotine-addiction aid Nigel's wrapped up for me."

A smile formed at the corners of her lips and it was quite real. But even with this honesty, there was something else to it. Something held back. Rob noticed it immediately, and his brain started racking ways to change that for her, most of them involving the little leaf he was half-taking out of his pocket.

"Oh I think he'll surprise you," he smiled and offered his hand.

"...which just means he didn't wrap it," the smaller girl countered as she took it. She cast just one more glance over her shoulder, eyes filling with a quiet longing… "...Well...he said he'd try," she sighed quietly to herself.

The look immediately faded, gone as if it were never there. In its place was content – if not muted – smile.

Rob frowned slightly, "who-?"

"C'mon! Le's go get out of these wet clothes," she quipped, completely ignorant to the double-meaning as she began to pull him inside.

Rob choked on his words, eyes bulging wildly at the myriad of images that flashed past them and devolving into a hacking, not-at-all flustered cough as his face glowed red, "…k…" he squeaked in a tiny voice, playing it 'cool'.

"Y'alright Robbie? Y'look like your comin' down with a fever," she frowned in concern.

"Y-yeah," Rob said, and, to his credit, the slight crack in his voice was pretty much unnoticeable, "...My pants are wet," he explained before his eyes widened and he hastened to add: "'Cause of the snow. And it's cold. So... wet. And cold. T-that's why. I just need a change...'Cause of the cold."

Ryce stopped and tilted her head to the side. The look she gave him was one of bemusement before she started to laugh.

"You're an odd duck," she said smiling, clearly meaning it as a compliment.

"Quack," the blond man said solemnly, looking into her eyes as he cracked out a grin.

She could not hold back the giggling at his silliness, giving him a light and playful push to the arm. Shaking her head, she managed to rein in the laughter…but kept the smile, "Geek."

A happy grin exploded onto his face, and then – after a moment's hesitation – reached into his pocket and started to pull out the mistletoe, "Ryce..."

"Hm?" she asked looking up at him, the odd not-thereness from earlier no longer seeming to glimmer behind her eyes. She was even smiling. Bright little circles of red colored both her cheeks, because of the cold, contrasting against the paleness of the rest of her face.

"I..." he started, stepping closer and raising his hand.

Her head tilted curiously at his odd speechlessness and she shifted her weight…

...only for her feet slide right out from under her.

She pitched forward with a yelp, attempting to grab at something to steady her as the ice beneath them completely threw her off balance. All she managed to do, however, was launch Robert backwards as well, the ice turning against him.

"Crap!" Rob cried, arms flailing.

And then he was caught by a pair of thin, but strong arms, chuckling reaching his ears as he was steadied.

"Timing!" the lighthearted voice quipped, an unknown voice (but…known? ...no... ...yes...?) brimming with amusement. Yet, there was also an apologetic undertone to it.

Robert blinked in confusion, looking up at whoever had caught him.

A complete stranger looked back at him. An older man, in his mid-to-latish 30's, if Rob were to guess, with a friendly, unshaven face. There were laugh-creases on his eyes and mouth, and short, slightly curly/unruly brownish hair atop his head. He was wearing a dark brown winter coat over jeans and a t-shirt and scarf, and his brown eyes shined with a strange youth and kindness that Rob found himself momentarily mesmerized by.

"Oh this is not helping the rumors about you being gay, Rob," the man chuckled happily, steadying the younger boy and patting his back.

"Um…hi," was all Robert could seem to muster up in quiet response, his mind oddly blank and unsure of what else he could possibly come up with. He blushed and began to frown when the man's words finally seem to click.

"Hey," the man greeted, looking past him and smiling at the Tower, brimming with light and happiness, "Don't mind me; I'm just making a delivery."

"Yea...sure," Rob said with uncertainty...before he remembered that he had not caught Ryce. Eyes widened as he ripped about on his heels, nearly slipping again to see if she was okay.

What he saw was kind of confusing, even without the soft snickering coming from the man beside him, but he could at least be assured that his friend hadn't fallen after all, and had in fact been caught as well…though beyond that he had no clue what to make of the scene, as Ryce sank into her bizarre-looking 'savior' in a crushing hug that could only be called hungry, a tremulously hopeful expression in her face.

She would have explained, if he'd asked, that when she'd tripped, she had been nearly instantly caught. For all of one second, she thought it had been Rob who did it, but then realized it could not be: Rob did not feel this way. She knew this touch far too well to mistake it. She did not HAVE to look up to see who it was. Instead, her hands had moved without a second thought, to grip at the arms holding her, and she breathed the person in.

Rob stood awkwardly beside them, hesitant to say or do anything, and confused at the tiny weight he was feeling at the pit of his stomach, "…Um…" he started.

The strange figure – person? – holding Ryce shifted slowly.

"Hey guys," it – definitely a 'he', actually – greeted cheerfully. Though his voice was _heavily_ muffled, which was only to be expected, Rob supposed, it was still…familiar.

"…._Met?_" Rob blinked.

Metatron…Adam Matthews...sort of looks like he had shrunk. Or maybe like he was wearing a tent.

He wore a _way_-too-large eskimo coat over his frame, so thick that it gave the impression of him having gained several hundred pounds around the waist. Equally thick pants joined them beneath fuzzy, heavy boots and matching mittens. A thick scarf was wrapped around his face – subduing his voice – and the hood of his coat covered his head and closed around it protectively, refusing to let any cold air in. It was such a ridiculous ensemble that Rob thought it odd he didn't find it more funny.

Ryce, Rob had noticed, had yet to move...she seemed afraid to, still holding on to Metatron without a sound. It was his words that finally made her muster up the courage to look up, and even then it was with the air of someone who was worried she would find something...horribly disappointing.

Rob swallowed, wondering if he should perhaps say something, tell Ryce that despite the current attire that left the half-demon unrecognizable to anyone, that this was Met, just so the girl's hopes wouldn't be shattered…

...but there was no mistaking those eyes. Not to her.

Met tried to wave, but movement seemed to be HEAVILY restrained in his little get-up. It was pretty much the same as watching someone trying to move around in a sumo suit.

Ryce still stared up at him silently, her face one of disbelief and cautious hope.

"I made it," his muffled voice announced softly.

"...so you did," came a flat grumble, that Rob almost instantly realized had come from him. He nearly brought his hand up to return the halfhearted wave, when he noticed the mistletoe still clutched between his fingers. Quickly, he tucked it back into his pocket...that time had passed.

The man next to Rob shrugged, reminding him of his presence, "He almost didn't: Adam was kinda lost when I stumbled into him... again. Got the dimension right, and even the planet and country. …He missed the state, though," he gave the pair a warm, quiet smile as he explained the crazy things. A smile they both could not help but want to return, "Figured I'd give him a ride home. 'Tis the season and all…Plus, there's the laugh factor," he amended quickly.

"Here meaning that I was to wear this thing during the entire trip back," Met explained to the young woman in his arms, making a doomed effort to point, "Instead of obviously more complicated and unnecessary methods such as one of my steam shrouds."

"For all we knew, we could have stumbled into a raging blizzard where your powers were conveniently useless, and where would you have been without the suit, huh?" his companion pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"In a tropical beach once you got us out of there," Met replied promptly.

"…Your waddle-walk is funny to watch," the other defended.

"...hi," Ryce suddenly said quietly – if not a bit dumbly, apparently still stuck on that part of the conversation. It was as if she didn't even realize it had continued around her as she just looked up at him in a quiet, uncharacteristic manner.

"Hi," Met... smiled? It was too hard to tell with the scarf, but Ryce was sure he did. He tried to bring his arms up and closed them around her, but, much like before, he failed miserably, "Merry Christmas!-it's still Christmas, right?"

"Yep," the older man answered.

"Fantastic then," Met seemed pleased, before looking back down at Ryce. "I got you something."

Throughout this, the Uberton-raised man watched them both. In an instant, something in Ryce's face had changed before him. Some seemed to shift, like a hidden panel along a wall. A ridiculously wide smile had broken out over her and before any of them could react, she let out a happy cry, launching at Met to hug him tightly.

"Yay!" Met cheered with her...even as he flopped over into the snow, unable to retain his footing, "I can only assume the prospect of materialistic gain has done the trick," he reasoned into the embrace, "I can only image what you'll do when you actually open the present. I bet it'll involve the works of Victor Hugo…done cheerfully."

A happy peal of laughter came giggling out of her as she simply continued to hug him all the tighter, her arms completely disappearing into the thick fluffy of his coat.

And all that was left for Gauntlet to do was watch as all the pretense and shields crashed down and away from her face...layer by layer. They were peeled back until all that was remaining was her – really _**her**_. Something finally started to click into place for him as a hand fell onto his shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at the stranger.

He smiled at Rob, a sort of apologetic sadness to it, just like his voice before. He did not say anything, just squeezed his shoulder. It was oddly comforting…but not enough.

Ryce, in the meantime, was still hugging Met tightly, nuzzling her face into the fluffy coat, while he could only wiggle on the ground – it was unknown if he was trying to hug her back or just get up. Either way, he once again failed miserably at both.

...However, if he was trying to imitate a turtle caught on its back, he was doing perfectly.

"...want to get up?" she giggled, quietly amused by his movements.

"Can we go inside?" he asked, and there was even a whine to his tone – that was new, "I want to take this thing off. We can take it from the top there. I believe in us giving one-hundred-and-ten percent!"

"Yeah, speaking off," the man said, clapping his hands once with a grin, "I've done my good deed of the year. I think I'm done here. Happy Christmas and all that jazz."

He saluted them all as Ryce glanced back at him...acknowledging him for the first time since they arrived. The unreadable and quiet expression that fell over her face as she stared could only mean that she recognized this man.

This was somewhat alarming to Rob, as previous experienced had shown without fail that anyone they came across that Ryce knew was never fully human, and while that was ok with him, there was also the fact that they were usually insane, cruel monster from the depths of insanity. Her reaction to the newcomer did not seem to promise a change from the nor-

And then, before the man could so much as blink, Ryce pulled herself up and off of Met and threw her arms around him instead.

"Um…" Rob blinks. "…Okay then."

The man stumbled a bit – being fairly skinny himself – before hugging her with the happy laughter of someone that felt good about themselves.

"Thank you," she said softly, pulling away to look him in the eye.

The man before Ryce smiled, before reaching up and poking her forehead, "You asked."

In the background, Met was still wiggling pathetically in the ground, "My kingdom of dust and ashes for some help?"

Rob frowned at his struggling friend for a moment or two, the reality of this all crashing down on him rather unpleasantly. Though even then, it only took him a moment or two before he stepped forward and seized one of those flailing hands. With a tug that was a bit rougher than necessary, he pulled Met up to his feet.

The Morning Child gained his stance with a bit of a bounce. Giving another one of those probable-grins to Rob in thanks, he waddled over towards Ryce and the man, rather looking like a giant penguin.

…The stranger was right. It _was _funny.

Rob took some pleasure in that.

Ryce, in the meantime, nodded quietly, shifting back so as to be able to take one of Met's hands, not noticing as her blonde friend's eyes narrowed, "...Happy Christmas, Alex."

"It's merry," Rob corrected her…even surprised himself at the snappishness of it.

"Anything works actually," 'Alex' replied cheerfully, "I'm certainly not one to stick to tradition. Anyway, I should go back to Mardi Gras!" he announced, clearly excited, "I'll see you kids later."

"...Mardis Gras isn't until March" Ryce pointed out, her face blank.

"Oh that's the public Mardi Gras," Alex replied, already walking away and speaking as if to an awe-struck child, "The Underground one carries all year long! Santa might show up after his rounds," he added with a wink.

Ryce flinched a bit at the name's mention...apparently losing what little bit of nerve she had shown during that moment in the mall a few days ago. In her unease, she backed up into Met, her hand sneaking into his currently-sausage-like fingers. All the while, Robert watched on in silence, wondering how he could have possibly missed this.

Yet they were both seemingly oblivious, Met smiling at her as the man disappeared under the snow's cover, "You know, he really is a nice guy. We once saved Christmas together."

"...Le's go in inside," she said quietly after a moment...a bit tiredly, in fact.

"THANK you," Adam nearly yelled in fervent honesty, eagerly waddling towards the building.

A giggle from the petite half-angel was the response as she was tugged forward with him. Her other hand reached out to take Robert's as well.

For a moment, he considered yanking it away from her. But even as he considered it, he could already picture the hurt on her face. She had not done anything wrong really, in the end. So he let her fingers curls around his own as she began to tug him towards the Tower, still giggling at the other's eagerness.

When they arrived, opening the doors robotically, Metatron pretty much dived through them. Not bothering to try and get up, his clawed hands started to rip at the thick clothing with the air of a child that finds himself wearing a really itchy shirt. With a giggle, Ryce released Rob's hand to stride forward and help him in removing them.

Soon, Met was bare, flustered and kinda sweaty, but looking really content and happy with his normal clothes, lying flat on the ground.

"I'll take that hug now," he pointed out with a smile to Ryce.

She did not need to be told twice, relishing in the feel of him instead of the wintry jacket that was now in pieces in the lobby.

"...gonna...head up," Rob interrupted quietly, "I'll see you upstairs."

Without another word, he brushed past the two, trying to keep the bitterness off his face. The elevator opened and swallowed his form in silence. Unseen to either blonde, yellow-gold eyes had followed his path to the elevator, only breaking their stare after the doors had closed. When they had? The gaze shifted down to the tiny blond currently snuggled into his arms. He did not say anything for several minutes, happy to just hold his friend gently, but then asked softly, "So, you rejected Rob, huh?"

Curled up against him, breathing in the scent she had missed so greatly, she nearly missed the question. When it finally did sink in, she started, pulling away to look at the demi-demon questioningly, "Rejected? Wha...huh?"

Metatron tilted his head, studying her for a moment before a spark of realization lit up his features.

"...Ah," he said quietly, reaching out and caressing her cheek. A million responses raced through his eyes, Ryce noticed, all the while knowing that not one of them would be lie, "...Rob likes you, mutchkin."

"Well...yea he liked me. We're friends, Adam," she answered, staring blankly, clearly having no clue as to what he was saying.

"As in, he wants to hold hands, kiss, likely fondle your breasts and eventually work his way up to a very uncomfortable and probably unsatisfying first-time love-making – which would hopefully get better with some practice," he frowned slightly at that, not really entirely sure why, "I assume he'd eventually may want to marry you too."

"...WHAT!" Ryce squeaked, nearly tumbling backwards in surprise.

"Well, don't panic," Met smiled, sitting up and tugging her up with him, "I was just adding that 'hopefully' to cover all my bases. I'm sure he'd get better."

Oblivious – though she was sure he was pretending to be this time – to the disbelieving and guilt-ridden look on her face, he pet her head fondly.

"No...not that...urgh...cheese itz," she growled, clutching her head, "How did I miss this?"

"You're kinda dense, Ryce," Met grinned, "Especially about how people feel about you. I don't know where you get that from."

"...but...I didn't reject him, Adam" she argued, starting to edge into hysterics, "He never said anything...or...or did anything!"

With a smile, he pulled her close, "Breathe," he whispered into her hair. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But...I don't. When could I have rejected..." she sputtered.

And then her eyes found it. Resting, neat as you please, in the center of the hall that led to the closed elevator doors. There was nothing like a big ol' Christmasy badge of what an oblivious jerk you were staring you right in the face.

"...Crap," Ryce sighed, seeing the lost mistletoe lying in a lonely heap on the ground.

"Hm..." the dark-haired youth mused quietly, seeing it as well, "If my arrival was what stopped it, he could have just tried later... no, something pro'lly made him realize you weren't interested – actually, ARE you interested?"

"No," she whispered without so much as a pause of hesitation. "You know that would never work and why."

"Not sure, actually," Met pointed out, "It could. So long as you see him for who he is…But it's not as easy as that," he rubbed her back comfortingly.

Quietly nodding, she leaned into his touch subconsciously, "I...should go talk to him."

Met was silent for a heartbeat, but then his hold slacked, letting her go.

"Make sure to come find me later," he smiled, helping her to her feet and pulling her towards the elevator. "I brought you something," he reminded her with a smile.

"I did too...well...I mean," Ryce paused, looking a bit confused for a moment before she corrected herself, "I bought you something, too."

"Great. I was worried you wouldn't be told you were my inter-dimensional secret Santa."

"...Can we ...um...not talk about Santa please" Ryce whimpered as they climbed into the elevator and began to make their ascent.

Met tilted his head, raising a brow, "This is going to be an interesting story to hear, isn't it?"

"Apparently people like to make me think that Santa is a sex-hungry, crazed cannibal, looking to beat me to death with a rock encased in a sock," she said flatly as the elevator dinged open to the party once more.

Met seemed to seriously consider this new information. "…Eh, I don't think so," he shrugged as they stepped from the lift into the room, "Alex says the wildest he's been was during his hippie phase back in the 1640s – turns out the Nevernever had a hippie craze WAY before us – when he got hooked on Cardbury Eggs. He got clean, but never got his figure back. Did you know they were in a rock band together?"

The pale and ashen pallor to her face would have been hard for anyone to miss, but if they had her whine would have been alerting enough, "...T-tim said he wasn't real," she whimpers before her mentioning of the talk.

"Well, you know how the Nevernever is," Met explained, pulling her close into a warm embrace she eagerly took to, "he _wasn't_ real at first, but the idea and the faith gave magic its form. Though there are rumors that he was shot down by Soviet Missiles during the Cold War. Don't know much about that."

Ryce let out a soft as she processed his words. Met chuckled and nuzzled her cheek gently, comforting her.

"Though he's not a cannibal," he was quick to also add, "Nor does he approve of beatings. That's the Krampus you're thinking of – but he was sealed away, so don't worry about him. As for sex-hungry... well, I guess he is. But he's married too."

"..." Ryce stared in silence.

This simply earned her another smile, "Think of it like Jesus."

Whatever this would have meant to the tiny girl was never addressed. Her only response was to widen her eyes a bit and nod as she said, "Ooooooh. Right. Gotcha."

The mystery of Santa Claus had been resolved!

After that, it soon had become apparent that there was really nothing left for the two to say to one another. There was no more time left to stall. Looking about at her assembled and oblivious friends, Ryce bit her lip.

"...I guess I better go have that talk then," she sighed before standing up on her tiptoes to plant a light kiss to Metatron's cheek, "...thank you."

Met smiled back at her, gentler than ever, and reached over, rustling her hair.

"You're welcome, I suppose, though not sure why," he thumped her forehead gently for encouragement, "Everything will be work out."

"...I hope so," she whispered, before turning and making her way down the hall.

In the end, Tim had gotten it entirely right: Met knew exactly how to speak 'Ryce'.

* * *

The walk was a short one, a few uninteresting minutes at most. The sounds of her friends – family – and their festivities faded into the background and then to silence. Soon, she found herself standing outside Robert's door. Not knowing what else to do, she knocked softly.

The Robert that answered... kinda looked like he hadn't slept well. A strange sight, considering they had just seen him perfectly alright a couple of minutes ago. When he realized who it was standing before his door he straightened, surprise clear on his face.

"Oh," he said, fighting to keep his voice casual. "...What's up?"

"...we need to talk, I think," she answered quietly.

He tensed, there was no hiding that, "I... w-why?"

Ryce looked back, waiting to see if he would be able to admit this himself. The silence that greeted her instead did not bode well for the conversation that had to occur. When he did not make any move or give any indication of continuing, she gave a sigh and tilted her head to the side, "You have a hole in your pocket."

For a few moments, she wondered if he was going to play dumb or just honestly did not realize what it was she was telling him. In those seconds, Robert stared back, gaze unwavering. In the end, though, his stance deflated and he gave a sigh. He stepped aside to allow her in, "You never even considered it was Met's?"

She lifted her hand from her own pocket to place the mistletoe on a shelf as she walked in, "You and I both know s'not."

Pausing, she looked around the room in silence for a few moments. And then she sighed, "...I guess I could tell you that m'really sorry I hurt you like this, Rob...but that isn't goin' to make this suck any less for you...and s'kinda self-serving."

"...Yeah," Rob said quietly, looking away, "...Look, I'm not mad at you, ok? I know you didn't mean... anything. Can you leave?"

"No," was her all too simple response.

"...It's my room," Rob replied, beginning to look annoyed.

"And you're _my_ friend," she countered, turning about to look him in the eye, "And s'Christmas. You shouldn't be in here alone just because of some silly stupid girl."

"You're not..." Rob started, "...SOME girl."

"Yes, I am. In this aspect? I am."

Rob looked at her wearily, "I don't get it."

"...Rob," Ryce sighed, running a hand through her hair with a tired expression, "m'some girl that you can find a dime a dozen for out on the street. Please step back from this...and think about how I treat you sometimes. You don't want nor do you deserve that out of a romantic interest."

When Robert frowned, and Ryce was not sure what to make of it. All she could do was stand by and watch and wait for him to be able to pull the words together.

"...I still don't get it," he admitted after a few seconds, "I don't exactly have a lot to compare to..."

Ryce nodded understandingly, "M'a witch, Robbie...and beyond that, I've got more issues than People magazine and you don't need that in your life."

"And that's your call?" Rob snapped bitterly before he could stop himself. How silly it sounded hit him instantly, "...Ok, yeah it is. But it still hurts!"

Wincing at the bitterness in his voice, knowing full well she earned it, Ryce could only nod and agree, "I know...I know it hurts...I wish I could make it not. All I know is s'gonna hurt a lot less than if I pretended to be able to give you something that m'not capable of."

"Why aren't you capable of it?" Rob demanded tiredly, "I mean...I thought there was... something. Earlier. When we hang out. I thought we had... moments...Whatever."

"We had moments of friendship Rob. M'sorry if I ever lead you on, or made it seem like something more," she told him, seeing his distress and building frustration clearly, "You're...one of the people M'closest to here, and I guess I was too selfish to stop and think that I wasn't being fair."

All Rob did was... just look at her. He did not seem to know what to say or do. Nor should he really, she knew.

"M'not...very good at this," Ryce admitted honestly, "In fact, I really don't have any idea what m'doin'. All I know is...I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have. And hurt is all the road you're lookin' at is goin' to lead to."

Quiet overcame them once more. Robert swallowed, an almost childish look coming over his face. His eyes dropped from hers.

"Maybe I don't mind the hurt," he muttered to himself, forgetting about her hearing and how easily she would pick this whisper up.

"You will," she promised him quietly, a sad smile playing its way across her face, "Right now...you can still walk away. You can still cut your losses…" she hesitated, "don't fall for someone who can't love y'back like that, Rob."

"You say it like it's impossible..." Rob said quietly, in a sort of hurt tone. He would not look up to meet her eyes.

The sound of it made wince, recognizing it for what it was and hating herself for causing it. She took a deep breath and exhaled carefully before she spoke again.

"I say it like there is a chance that you could end up in that position...and I...don't ever want you to have to feel that."

Robert asked without missing a beat, "Like... you?"

The moments in which Ryce stared at him silently passed at an absurdly slow pace. Like molasses through a colander, it ticked by, until it was beginning to feel stiflingly awkward. If either were to be told, they would have been shocked to find that it had been mere seconds that had gone by and not the minutes – or hours even – that it had felt like.

"...You really don't think he...?" Rob started, hoping to break that tension.

When she finally smiled at him it was just a touch hollow, her shoulders giving a tired shrug, "No...I don't. But this isn't 'bout me."

"But..." Rob seemed conflicted, like he could not believe he was saying this, "...Why don't you just... try? At least you'd know."

"Because if m'right? And he can't or doesn't or whatever...everything changes," she laughed at the absurdity of what she was about to say, unable to justify it beyond her own mind, "Adam...was the one stable thing I had for so long, Rob...and I can't lose that."

She sighed heavily, bringing her eyes up to finally look back at him, simply saying, "M'not strong enough to try," she said simply "Not yet at least."

"...I... don't think he's the kind to let things change badly," he grumbled. There was a bitterness to his voice, but it seemed like he wanted to help in spite of it, "...But it's not... any of my business."

"No, he's not. But there're some things...that you can't stop once they've started," Ryce smiled sadly, "Anyway... like I said, this isn't about me. S'about getting' you back to the party before Noel starts trying to bring up current events in Russia and bore us all into a yuletide coma."

She was clearly trying – and probably failing horribly – to get him to smile, if even just the smallest of attempt. The hope of it clear in her eyes as Robert looked at her, and there was a ghost of it in his expression.

"...I'm not ok," he confessed, "...To be honest, I just want to slink into bed right now, and sleep things off."

That hope began to dim in her eyes. He caught it and continued, "...But... I am better...and it's Christmas."

She nodded, looking back down the hall towards the celebration continuing on ignorant to what was going on a few yards away, "Indeed...it is."

Pausing, she looked back at him, "I can make myself scarce."

"No!...no... wait. I don't want to lose you," Rob said, a little too quickly before pausing to groan and hold his head, "Ugh…That wasn't meant to sound creepy."

The beginnings of a grin tried to quirk up the corners of her mouth, but she stifled it as best she could, "S'okay...we're all a lil creepy...it keeps us interesting…And truth be told? I don't wanna lose you either...selfish as that is," she added, quietly.

With a sigh, Robert offered her a tentative smile. "I guess we're stuck with each other, then."

She returned it – relief clear in her eyes – gently tilting her head, "Could be worse?"

"Yes," Rob nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling. "I could have cancer."

She could not stall the snicker that fell out of her, "Li'l dark for Christmas, isn't it?"

Fidgeting a bit, she just watched him quietly. It was clear that she wanted to do something but seemed unsure if she would be allowed. The uncertain silence that had fallen over them seemed so fragile and the mood so easily shattered.

"...So now what?" Gauntlet asked, looking not much better than her, afraid to do anything and yet, at the same time, also afraid of doing nothing.

"..." Ryce opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her arms seemed to jerk up for a moment, about to step forward before she thought better of it. Looking back at her, clearly just as unsure as he was, the Titan cleared his throat in an attempt at breaking the tension once more

"...Yeah... ...Met's probably waiting for you," he said quietly, seeing she was not able to find her own words, "the others too. And your gifts..."

Finally, this seemed to spark something in her as she nodded before extending a hand to him. That tiny, barely there smile was back, "They're waitin' on you too. You know full well how annoying and persistent I can be. Probably easier if y'jus' come with me now.

"Please?" she asked quietly, almost an afterthought. There were no sad eyes...no manipulation. Just a simple request from a worried friend.

Standing there, Rob looked at her hand. Instantly, his eyes lost some of their glow, dimming sadly. Ryce saw it happening and her hand almost wavered. But she did not falter or let it fall. She would not.

"...If I asked you to please leave me be for now, you'd respected that," he pointed out quietly, neither a question nor request. It was a statement of fact that he knew with certainty.

The girl in the hall stared back at him, shoulder nearly slumping in disappointment before she caught herself. Awkwardly, she lowered her hand, curling it towards her to her side, "...Okay...if tha's what you want."

Silence greeted her words. Robert looked on without a word. Hesitating.

Not wanting to pressure him, Ryce turned without another word and made her way out the door, starting to close it behind her. Her eyes did not bother to hide how much she disagreed with this...but she was not about to contradict his wants. Not after what had transpired tonight. Unseen to her, as the door began to creak shut, Robert looked at her back, clenching his fists and conflicted.

Finally, a sort of annoyed grunt escaped his lips and he strode over, grabbing the door and opening it, "Wait!" he said, out of breath somehow, looking at her with tired, annoyed – but not at her – eyes, "...I'm no good at this emo crap."

She paused, looking back at him, "...You're not built for it."

Then, offering up a wan smile she shrugged and added, "Sides...all 'emo' in the Tower s'immediately pulled into Noel...I think he feeds on it."

"...I'm... not ok. But I will be," he admitted, looking back at the tiny teenager, before a small smile broke out on his face, "...And it's Christmas. Your first. Should be special and junk."

"No one would expect you to be 'okay'," Ryce whispered, "But that doesn't mean you need to be alone either. Trust me...bein' 'not okay'...s'a lot better when s'with other people."

Once more, she looked about to give him a hug, clearly wanting to. Again though, paused and thought better of it, instead running a nervous hand through her hair, "Le's head back...if it makes you feel any better, I have a full gallon of hard eggnog in the fridge that m'gonna probably finish and pass out."

"...I have no idea how that's supposed to make _me_ feel better," Rob said, walking up to her, "but ok. I'm... up for it."

"You won't have to put up with the mean-spirited tramp who upset you," she pointed out, a cheeky smirk on her face as they began to make their way back to the holiday celebrations. She was trying to make what was probably an awful joke and judging by Rob's flinch it had failed horribly.

"...Don't do that, please," Rob frowned softly his voice quiet, "You aren't, you know."

Face falling, she nodded and gave a sigh, "...M'sorry...really not helpin' m'I?"

Whether or not she was failing in her attempts to help, Gauntlet gave no indication. Instead, he gave her a sideways glance.

"...Sides," and there was soft grin working its way across his face, changing the subject, "you're not any easier to handle when you're drunk."

"I will have you know Mr. Candide that m' a VERY dignified drinker," she responded in a tone of faux offense that would have been far more believable without the smile.

"According to one selfish lover, you're actually a whiny drunk."

"...'Lo pot...your hue...well... I do not know how to say this but it _bothers_ me," Ryce grumbled, already thinking of a litany of charming words to deliver to their resident Oedipal Complex when she was allowed her vocal free will once more.

"I don't think Noel can get drunk – Shimmer filters it out," and she had to wonder if the blond young man was simply trying to goad her on now.

"I was talkin' bout the whinin'...and 'sides there was that time in three seven o-" she paused and shook her head, "Actually no...let's just say you're 100 percent right and leave it at that."

"K?" Rob grinned, as they reached the living room, where the rest of the titans where. Most of them looked up, and waved in different manners, still celebrating together and clueless to the drama occurring elsewhere in their home. All that is, except for Savior, who gave Rob a calculative look before nodding as well. Nearby, Raven was talking animatedly with Metatron.

Ryce looked around at them quietly, and she could not help but smile warmly at the people in the room around her. It was a look that was so bemused for all its contentment as if she still could not understand what she was seeing. As if the very thought of it had never even occurred to her as a possibility.

As she watched the room, she was watched in turn by Robert. He could not help the tugs on his heart...but also could not help his desire to ensure that that expression stayed in place. Knowing this, he nudged her with his arm, getting her attention and then nodded toward the black-and-gold-haired half-demon. He accented his nod with a gentle push.

The touch made her start a bit, breaking out of her quiet reverie to look first at the blond Titan and then in the direction in which she was being guided. Seeing what – or better yet WHO – she paused and turned to look back at him, "...out of line if I ask for a hug?"

With a soft frown, Robert mused, "No. Friends hug. I don't think they nuzzle, though," yet he had opened his arms.

"I'll...stop doin' that, then," she said, a nearly undetectable – and embarrassed – blush coating her cheeks. Yet, despite this, she did not need to be told twice, stepping forward into the welcoming arms to hug him tightly. Into the hug, Robert sighed, something melancholic passing through him as he tightened his hold. It did not seem like he wanted to let go...

But soon his grip slacked. At the first sign of his being done with the embrace, she broke the hug, pulling away to look up at him, "...thank you, Rob. For...not telling me where to go. For understandin' as...as much as you could."

He smiled, "...We're going to be ok... aren't we?"

A chuckle bubbled out of her as she smiled back up at him, "You said it...we're stuck with each other."

The words seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear – or as close to it as she could honestly mean what she was saying – a lopsided grin breaking out over his lips. It was a good grin. It was a comforting one. It was not 'okay' as he had put it several minutes ago, but at least it was him.

"Go," he nodded, "You have something for him, right?"

There was no waiting around for an answer, and quietly slinked off to talk to some of the others. Within seconds, he had blended in to the crowd of his teammates, leaving Ryce to herself.

The response to her solitude was a nod, more to herself than in response to his non-question. Then, when she looked up at the crowded and busy room around her, her eyes found him. It did not take minutes or even seconds to find him. As soon as her eyes lifted, they had locked upon him sitting across the room talking to his fellow demonling. The smile on her face grew just a bit wider as she made her way over to stand beside him.

Met looked towards her before she made it to his side, as if sensing her. He smiled, searching her expression with protective fondness. And a smile was given back in return, "Lo."

He offered his hand, "Lots of hello's today, Ryce."

A tired chuckle, "S'been a long dang day...can't keep track of the 'los'," she said in jest, taking it as soon as it was offered. It felt warm and right against her palms and fingertips.

As soon as she did, he gently pulled her close to sit next to him, her legs moving on top of his comfortably, and he began to caress her head, "Shopping, cooking, psychotic breakdowns and love troubles. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he mused, "Sounds like this Christmas had it all."

"You got here in the end," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, S'what counts ya know...funny thing is out of everythin' the dang love troubles were the worse part."

"Hmm," Met mused quietly, his hands playing with one of her own.

A soft weight fell into it, and Met curled up her fingers around it, gently. Looking up in confusion, she tilted her head before gazing back down at her closed hand, cupped by his. She did not make any immediate move to see what it was, waiting for his explanation.

"I stumbled into a forge," Met smiled quietly, looking at her hand, "Well, it wasn't much of a forge. More like a spaceship. That was melting."

She relaxed to listen to his story and he continued, "it was just something I thought of on the moment...which the group of people I was with at the time had a hard time grasping the importance of. Weird people, they were," he paused and tilted his head in thought, "...Huh, now that I think about it, I hope they're still alive. Sorta jumped before I could confirm it."

Nevertheless, his concerns seemed short-lived as he turned his gaze back down at her hand, "But not before I made this."

Eyes clouded with bemusement, she lifted her hand and opened her fingers, gently cupping the contents. When she looked inside she found some…misshapen. Her first impression was that it was horribly wrapped...and this impression was correct. A shapeless, wrinkly thing of various colors and an oversized blue bow on it – almost bigger than the gift itself. Smiling, she pulled the bow carefully, letting it fall to the sides of the gift. With equal care, she peeled away the paper hiding the gift.

The paper fell away to reveal a tiny – very rough-looking – flat, metal raccoon staring back at her. Its blocky arms and legs, and the little mask over its face, seemingly done with all the expertise of a five-year-old. On its chest, a little heart had been carved with care, and its little eyes seemed to look up at Ryce, there was a little hook on the back of its head. It was a necklace pendant.

Ryce could only stare for the first few seconds in quiet wonder, her fingertips caressing the rough details with the tender gentleness one would typically reserve for precious stones. Her eyes were half-lidded and soft, shining quietly.

"Not bad for 4 hours of work," Met nodded.

Without a word, she reached up to her neck and removed her constant necklace, fingers nimbly working the clasp that held it. She slipped the raccoon unto its new home, the soft clinking of it coming to rest against the Celtic knot, nearly unheard in the noise of the celebration. Once more, her fingers set to work, reattaching the clasp around the back of her neck, the knot and raccoon resting against her pale skin just over her heart.

Before he could get a word in, her arms were around his neck, her body against his as she hugged him for all she was worth

"Thank you."

Met just smiled, returning the hug, with quiet, even breaths, one of his hands reaching up to caress the little pendant. Her head rested in between the crook of his shoulder and his neck, her hold loosening to a more comfortable grip but never letting go.

"Merry Christmas, Adam," she whispered quietly, turning her face into his neck.

"...Merry Christmas, Fionnabhair," Met murmured into her forehead, kissing it. Ryce chuckled and shook her head at her stupid middle name, settling into this position quite comfortably. Something occurred to her though.

"So where were you?" she asked.

"Well…" Metatron tilts his head, thinking.

_A couple of days ago!_

"It sure was nice for you to stop by, Adam," Bumblebee said happily as her team sat on their kitchen table with the often-lost Titan.

"Yeah, and with dinner too," Speedy grinned, serving himself a big scoop.

"I was around. Eventually I'll get to the right tower," Metatron grinned.

"I have to say, though," Aqualad said in-between bites, as he sat across from the half-demon, "this 'chili con carne' is great!"

"¡Sí!" the twins spoke in unison. "No sabemos porque uzaste pescados, ¡Pero al iguál salió delicíoso! ¿Puedes darno más, por favor?"

"It's a special recipe," Metatron explained, resting his head on his hand lazily.

"Yeah! This is really good!" Aqualad ate happily.

"First time with chili?" Speedy chuckled. "Careful, it's kinda hot."

"Don't care," Aqualad grins, taking another serving. "You know, maybe the whole water-slash-fish-commanding thing's been played out," he reasons, "I could come up with a whole new heroic identity revolving entirely around this dish," he ignored his friends' snickering. "No, really! All I need is a new name. Like… Hot Chilli. Chillad! …The Chillinator?"

"How about KingFish1212?" Metatron suggested, eating.

Aqualad choked on his food, startling everyone as he struggled, looking at Metatron with wide eyes, "W-what?"

"Yes," the golden-eyed boy nodded pleasantly, his lazy manner akin to a cat bathing on the sun, "I'm afraid your super-duper secret identity in a public forum couldn't stand up to the might of the average two-bit hacker, Zen. Especially when you put 'Atlantis' as place of birth, and 'Titans East Tower, California" as current residency in your profile. Really? Shame on you."

Aqualad swallowed _very _slowly, confusion evident on his teammates' faces.

"It also escaped your notice that not only were your posts made into a _public_ forum where anyone could see what you did," Metatron continued, his claw-tipped finger trailing along in a little circle on the sturdy oak table, "but they might affect others beyond your intended target, like a couple of children stumbling into it due to the festive season, and being heavily traumatized, leaving some pissed-off parents behind."

"…Erm…" Aqualad tried.

"Not to worry, though," Metatron assured, smiling comfortingly, "I took the heat off of you. I approached many of these parents, before they could do something they'd regret, and sat down and talked to them about healthier ways to deal with their anger, and help their children at the same time. You see, making use of California's eternally sunny weather, I suggested outdoor activities, like soccer, jogging, knife-juggling and fishing. That last one was especially popular for some reason. They must have caught hundreds."

Aqualad made a croaking noise, going green. "They _killed-_"

"After they had been such good sports by, y'know, promising to let go of this and not make it into a public scandal and destroying all of your reputations," Metatron continued without so much as a blink, "I decided to give them a treat: I offered to buy their fish for an admittedly outrageous sum of money. Needless to say, they didn't really hesitate and there are probably more than a few families planning to spend Christmas in Disneyland, good on them. However, I now had the dilemma of having to drag around over thirty pounds of fresh, gutted fish," Aqualad cringed at the reminder, unable to look away from the man before him, "It was gonna go bad soon, and fish is always tastier the sooner you eat it, so I figured I'd cook something up. After a night with the meat-mincer, I was all ready to stop by and visit you all…And, of course, feed you your chili."

Metatron waved vaguely to their nearly empty bowls, all their eyes dragged to them, Aqualad's wide open.

"Do you like it?" the half-demon asked in a soft, quiet voice, making the Atlantean look back up at him. Metatron leaned forward into the table, his hands propped up and fingers interlaced before him as he watched. "…Do you like it, Zen? I call it… Marine Paradise Chili."

Aqualad dumped the spoon he had somehow managed to keep hold of all this time, pulling his bowl to him and staring inside. "Oh my God."

And then he reached over and pulled out a fin.

"_OH MY __**GOD!**_" Aqualad screamed, throwing it and the bowl away, looking seconds away from throwing up.

"…Jesus _Christ_, Adam," Bumblebee stared. Metatron winked at her.

"_Oh __**GOD!**_" Aqualad sobbed, pulling at his hair frantically, pressing his head against the table and banging his fists. "_NO! __**…NOOO…!**_"

"Oh since I was already here," Metatron announced cheerfully, "I invited Tempest, Aquaman, and Mera, Aquaman's seldom-seen wife, to join us. Here they are now!"

The trio stepped in, smiling…their greetings, however, died on their mouths once they took in the pathetic sight that was Aqualad.

"…Geez, what a little crybaby!" Mera said, frowning.

"You gonna cry all day, crybaby?" Tempest sneered.

"You know, _everyone _has problems," Aquaman rolled his eyes, "doesn't mean you have to be a little crybaby about it. You don't see me whining about my hand. Which I cut off myself."

"Come on, guys, let's go," Tempest sighed in disdain, "this kid is _totally _not cool."

"Yeah, that's the most uncool kid I've ever met," Aquaman agreed, turning on heel and leaving, his companions following.

"Little crybaby!" Mere mocked nastily, making an L with her fingers before leaving as well.

"N-nnnno! Wait!" Aqualad cried after them, but he was ignored. "W-waaaaaait! Oh, my _**GOD, OH MY GOD!**_" he broke down into new, incoherent sobs.

His teammates could do nothing but stare at Metatron.

"…Oh," Metatron nodded, and then grinned happily, lashing out with a double thumbs-up. "And a Merry Christmas."

Silence, beyond Aqualad's sobs.

And then Speedy reached for his bowl and resumed eating.

"NAT!" Bumblebee cried, horrified.

"What? It's _good!_" Speedy whined.

_And with that bit of mental scarring finished…_

"Mostly trying to find my way here, actually," Met confessed truthfully. "Also, I may have been banned from ever stepping foot in the state of California," he paused, "…And Atlantis."

"Ah, business as usual."

"Yeah. Want a vial filled with the tears of unfathomable sadness?"

"_DO_ I!"

"...Merry Christmas," Met repeated, pulling the girl closer and kissing her cheek, "...Ryce."

* * *

And so closed another Christmas Holiday. As to be expected with all times such as these, there was laughter, and there were tears…both elation and worry. But above all else, in the end there was love and there was warmth. So, before the chapter of their lives was left completely behind…the Titans had one more thing to say…

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas," Robin nodded raising a cup of eggnog.

Beside him sat Starfire with her head upon his shoulder, "Let your heart be light."

"From now on, our troubles will be out of sight," Beast Boy sighed as he nuzzled his girlfriend.

Terra giggled a bit, "Have yourself a merry little Christmas."

"Make the Yule-tide gay…oh come ON…why do _**I**_ get this line!" Gauntlet whined.

("Rob, stop ruining the song and just say your line," Tim groaned.)

"From now on our troubles will be miles away," Cyborg managed to drown out both of them.

Across the room Raven sat, leaning back against Noel, her tea cupped gently between her hands, "Here we are as in olden days."

"Happy golden days of yore," Savior said softly as a nearby, Scalpel smiled and propped his chin on Sophie's head hugging her from behind.

"Faithful friends who are dear to us."

Sophie glanced up lovingly, "Gather near to us once more."

"Through the years…We all will be together," Metatron whispered softly, wrapping a blanket over himself and Ryce as she dozed in his lap.

("…is someone gonna wake Ryce up for her line?" Garfield asked quietly as the small girl in Metatron's arms began to stir, cracking open an eye.)

"If the Fates allow…Hang a shinin' star up'n the highest…up'n the high-," but a yawn cracked through as Ryce's eyes drifted back shut.

"Bough!" Adam chimed in, finishing for her before planting a soft kiss to her temple.

Some quiet laughter drifted through the room, carrying – though a bit muffled – out into the chilly air of the encroaching Christmas morning. The wind kicked that laughter up, carrying it as it swirled high up towards the cloudless starry sky above. Below the warmth and laughter laid a silent night not unlike that of the song that bore the same name. Watching over it all from their roof, stood a Woman in Black and dark-haired Man in a Suit each holding a single lit candle with only one request of you.

"And have yourself a merry little Christmas now."

They winked, leaned forward, and blew their candles out.

The End.

Meanwhile!

The extravagant mansion was bigger than most football stadiums, and thrice as tacky.

Inside one of its many rooms, one Reginald Bridgeton, the Third, resided, laying restfully on a comfortable easy chair that cost more than your—or your parents'—car. Around him, many beautiful nurses paraded by, checking his vitals and spending thousands of dollars to make him marginally more comfortable.

"I'm sorry, dear heart," he spoke in a hollow, deathbed tone, shifting the meat over his black eye slowly, "But I'm afraid your doll will have to be exported directly from Japan. I've sent twelve of our fifty private jets, but the impracticality of having them be jewel-encrusted slows them down enough so that they won't be back until the twenty-sixth," he met his daughter's eyes sadly, begging her to understand. "I can only hope your new pony stables, miniature sports car, diamond tiara, truckful of fashionable clothing, and new superpowered suit fashioned in the shape of a female Iron Man will be enough until then."

Gabrielle Bridgeton looked at her weakened father.

She had expected possible bad news when her father's secretary had fetched her from her personal amusement park, and had jumped on her pet-slash-steed panda, rushing to his side.

But now, now that she heard what has happened, the tragedy and scope of it all.

For the first time in her short life, reality dawned on Gabrielle. And she understood, finally, what it was like to be… _poor._

"Oh daddy," she whimpered, trying to be brave, but it was so _hard_. Sinking to her knees, she covered her face with one of her disposable, $1000 each, handkerchiefs, and started sobbing heartbreakingly. "Christmas is _ruined!_"

"Pumpkin…" Reginald whispered weakly.

We will leave this family to their pain. To their privacy.

It's the respectful thing to do.

**

* * *

**

**OMAKE!**

"Eat, Miss Mori! Eat!" The Lord of the Night declared in his most serious of tones, shoving pieces of Ryce's fruitcake into his mouth once he ensured it was not in any way poisonous.

"…Why, Master?" Marissa Mori questioned for once in her months/years of servitude to the shadow 'god', her fork picking at the pastry.

"We must eat it… For _EVIL!_" The Lord explained, deathly serious.

"…I don't follow."

"They would expect us to throw it out," The Lord explained shrewdly. "By eating it, we defy their expectations and leave them unsure and hesitant. Never become predictable, Miss Mori, and you will win the war. That is how Metestasnathean has survived this long. It is the one lesson to be learned from him."

"…But I don't like fruitcake," Marissa finally admitted, a petulant little tone in her voice.

"Try it with icecream. Makes it yummy."

**

* * *

**

**SLOTHSOUL: Wonder how long till Ricky and Marissa discover that's a… 'special' fruitcake they're eating. Oh, and for those that think Aquaman, Tempest and Mera wouldn't act like that with Aqualad… …well… …They were actually holograms. Yes. Holograms. So there.**

**Also, sorry it's late… my fault.**


End file.
